


Skye Gazing

by ComfyJammies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accident, Bathtub Sex, Cheating, Come Eating, Ethical Dilemmas, Harry is intuitive, Louis and Harry likely have some emotional issues and a bit of cognitive dissonance, Love Bites, M/M, Power Differentials, Richard's dad is a complete asshole. Just remember this., True Love, Zain is gender fluid, chakra tuning forks, doctor/patient relations, home birth, kind of new age, kundalini yoga, midwifery care, natural birth, quantum physics view of reality, soul gazing, the underage tag here is because Harry is 17
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:37:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 93,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6492313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfyJammies/pseuds/ComfyJammies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has been singularly focused on powering through graduate school with a doctorate in Psychology and immediately starting a family with his longtime partner. Shortly before graduation, he's been assigned a student from the local high school who's been struggling with stressors partially because of a mysterious medical ailment.<br/>It takes a bit of soul searching and soul gazing but when you know you know...however, choosing love can be its own adventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is a bit rough for our sweet Harry.  
> Also, this prompt involved themes of age-gap, angst and cheating. I hybridized the prompt and hope it is to your liking. This person did not want any other members of 1D in the fic, but I added them in minor roles.

“Suck harder. Now!” Richard demanded, thrusting his cock powerfully into Harry’s mouth, relenting when the leaking head strikes the back of his fuckbuddy’s throat. He takes another shaky drag from his smoke and blows out with feigned practiced ease while gripping Harry’s head forcing it to still with the other hand in a show of dominance.

“Deeper, Harry, fuck. You hear me?  God, fuck. Swallow me,” Richard feverishly moans as his hips snap against Harry’s face pressing deeply into Harry’s throat forcing in and losing the fight to keep rhythm. His fag hand held high, he stumble pulls his cock out from out Harry’s swollen, supple lips, stroking hard and shoots his load onto Harry’s scrunched face.

Harry releases his knees and sits his bare bum back on to his bare feet, the hot August cement searing a reminder to hydrate. He exhales deeply, eyelids dripping gooey streaks sliding down his face. Grimacing, he looks up at Richard, a question stings at the surface of his eyes. Richard, still dazed just stares blankly back and stubs out his cig under his too-big boots.

“Well?” Harry asks, hands motioning to the slimy jizz covering his face and dripping onto his bare shoulders and chest.

Richard exhales and reaches into the dress shirt pocket. He pulls out a cigarette, places it between his chapped lips and murmurs, “You, what? Hmm?” He looks pale and weak in the summer sun. Whatever muscle tone he has hides beneath years of deconditioning.  He lights up, gazing off, flaccid dick limp between his pasty thighs. In a momentary flash of awareness, he looks down at Harry, “What, man? My soldier is retired,” gently patting his softie smugly.

“Could you, uhmm, clean me up?” Harry asks meekly, motioning to his face while blindly reaching for the bottom of Richard’s button-up shirt.

Richard backs away sharply, “Duuude, what the fuck?! You know my dad would kill me if he found  splooge on his uniform. That’s fucked up,” shaking his head, he bends down and picks up Harry’s white T-shirt and lobs it at him hitting him in the shoulder. 

Harry turns his T-shirt inside out and casually wipes up the slimy mess. His head down, he turns from Richard and gathers his belongings that were previously strewn during rather heated moments in the back yard. His clothing bunched up around his midsection covering his own soldier that once again saw no action today, he leaves his pal to finish his smoke and he heads inside. His thoughts swirled like a tidepool of pain and disease.

In the quick walk from the yard to the bathroom, he felt a lot of things, sad feelings mostly: depression, irritation, confusion, but mostly rejection. As a seventeen year old, he’s been looking forward to sexual encounters since he discovered himself and those feelings that come and come and hot lips and kissing. Perhaps he’s romanticized his expectations a bit, but now, his experiences are mostly meh. Dissatisfying at best and he doesn't want to consider how things could get worse.

His older sister Gemma’s words reverberate in his mind, ‘These young lads aren’t worth a good god damn.’ Mentally scoffing all the hype about sex, he feels dejected and almost walks into a ficus that’s standing conspicuously in the living room otherwise barren of any living plants. _That’s new,_ he thinks.

A few minutes later, he emerges from the washroom more outwardly put together, but still struggles to swallow around the lump in his throat that embodies his disappointment and discouragement. He walks into Richard’s bedroom, spots the CK and spritzes some cologne all over his hair and clothing so his mum doesn’t smell the smoke—and hopefully he doesn’t stink of sex. _Is that even a thing?_ he wonders. Second-hand smoke and first-hand sex. He chuckles at the thought, a blip of adolescent humour pushing through ripping pain of getting dogged by Richard, again. _What a loser, laughing at such stupid things._ First hand sex. First. Hand. Sex.

He finds Richard in the laundry room, carefully placing the used uniform in the bottom of the dry cleaning bag. His father’s dusty boots stationed by his side. Richard locates the polishing rag and carefully cleans the boots, removing any trace of evidence they’ve been out of the closet.

Harry observes him for a few moments, takes a deep breath and turns to go, “See you around.”

“See ya.”


	2. Chapter 2

Louis quickly opens the door to his flat and swivels his neck to take a quick peek inside. “Berndt?” he calls out eagerly. He gathers up his belongings, schlepping his backpack, two grocery bags in one hand and balances one paper parcel in the other. “Berndt? Mein Schatz? Hun, you home?” his voice echoes throughout their living space reverberating off the walls.

_God, I can’t wait to show you this little jumper and it was on clearance. Couldn’t resist._

Loaded for bear, his body resembles an abstract geometric shape that’s on the verge of collapsing into something unidentifiable. Thank god for all that yoga that he does or else a weaker man would surely risk strain and suffer under the physical duress. He’s leaning precariously carrying his load. He carefully eases his backpack off of his shoulder and hip sliding it down his leg landing unceremoniously by his messy desk. His desk is something out of A Beautiful Mind.  Veritable mountains of papers, books and piles of files. Photographs, some framed, others risking damage. Inspiring quotes that are ready to be cycled on the fridge or on Instagram. Notebooks with doodles, yoga class ideas, psych theories, dreams scribbled in the fog of night before his prefrontal cortex tries to rationalize the disjointed madness. Magazine clippings and pics for his Dream Boards. CDs for his yoga classes.

Master of intention? Creative genius?   _Maybe_ he thinks to himself proudly, but more of a reminder to clean that schmutzig Schreibstisch soon. Berndt doesn’t like disorder. Nein, nein, nein, with a judgmental finger for emphasis. Must be those German roots always sorting and contorting until uncluttered-horizontal–surface—homeostasis is achieved. _Who has time for that bullshit?_ He and Berndt have compatibilities, but cleanliness is not one of them.

‘If it’s not a right angle, it’s a wrong angle’, is one of his boyfriend’s favorite quotes. He’s not as funny as he thinks he is but Louis indulges him anyway. It helps, of course, that he speaks with a thick German accent, so that adds to the allure and he also finds it humourous that these Germans can’t properly pronounce the letter R, so it sounds like ‘wight’ and ‘wong’ which is just funny (read: ironic) given the context.  

Ah, Berndt, he’s got some issues stemming from being an uptight perfectionist.  They’ve talked about how it will be when there are kids in the house with all their kidshit, books, games, multi-piece everything and toys underfoot. There’s a weekly lego destined for a parent’s foot and playdoh ruining carpets as we speak, mobile phones dropped and submerged in water in the blink of an eye but that’s the life he’s got his heart set on.

He wants nothing more than to live in that state of fatherhood with all the thorns and blooms. It’ll be an adventure in surrendering to the chaos and junkyard-itude of life with little peace destroyers on the loose—but it’s so worth it. At least that’s what he tells himself.   

Louis has six younger siblings, so he knows firsthand how it goes. It is impossible to keep up with everything but since he and Berndt have agreed to two children ideally, hopefully that will be more manageable and they can be great parents and successful doctors, too. It’s kind of a secret, but they’ve been saving for a surrogate, so hopefully they will get twins on the first go-round and be done with it. Fingers crossed. Boom, instant family.

Louis is a man on the move. He hustles to the kitchen and puts the perishable items away first and leaves the dry goods on the counter for later. Nothing is more important at the moment than that package. His heart expands in anticipation.

He carefully picks up the paper parcel and opens it up as slowly and calmly as a child opens gifts on Christmas. Let the paper blizzard begin!

For a moment he considers waiting for Berndt so they can share the joy together but figures they will have a lot of moments like these and patience is not his virtue. He tears the wrapping open and removes the inner paper packaging discarding it on the floor. He takes the first item out of its plastic slip deftly and delicately, delighting in in what it all means.  A baby beach suit and matching sun hat. “Daddy’s Surf Buddy, oh my gawwwwd...I love it,” he hugs it tight to his chest soaking up all the baby cuteness.

He places them down and opens another: a white velvet jumper with a satin golden star. “Awwwwww….” his heart melts out of his mouth. He bought it because that was the nickname Berndt gave him when they first met in Uni. Berndt was a few years older and a few inches taller and Louis is rather smol and kinda dainty. He has a big sassy attitude, that’s about it.  

 _My little star,_ his heart reminisces.  He picks it up and plants a big ol kissie right in the middle of the star. _My star._ He imagines his child wearing that jumper smooching him back. Baby kisses are the best. A feeling of peace fills his being replacing loneliness with hope. _Someday, my prince or princess will come._

He’s really given everything quite a bit of thought. Neutral colors and it’s a 12-18 month size so he figures the baby would be affectionate by then. Hopefully, really affectionate. He can’t wait to be a daddy. It’s all he’s ever wanted, really. That and to be called Doctor Tomlinson, then he could provide for his family.  First one, then the other. He’s got a partner with mutual goals, so life is good. #goals.

Next up, an unbelievably soft blankey with giraffes, elephants and monkeys. He rubs his cheeks on the soft fabric pelt, sniffs deep and holds the soft wubby close to his chest breathing in the promise of gentle feet and tickly tummies. “Ahhhh……………..I can’t wait to meet you, sweet one. Or sweet ones.” _Hopefully someday soon._

Next, a book I Love My Daddies And My Daddies Love Me.  Then, finally, a brown fluffy jammie  with a hood and bear ears that says My Little Bear. He notices a spark of anger in his throat and constriction in his chest remembering that this jammie is a replacement. He does not want to talk about it though. It is in the past. He has it back now, and it will go to its intended recipient instead of that fucking…. “Grrrr….”

 _It is what it is. Letting go. Surrender._  “Let it go. Let it go. Not helpful to hold on. Doesn’t serve you,” he mumbles to himself and takes a deep breath in and holds it at the top and releases slowly through his nose. _That fuhh-cking bitch._ Nope. More deep breaths. In for four, out for six. _Was Berndt, too. Was a nice thing to do, that dog was cold, but…Deep breaths._ He feels his shoulders release and his jaw loosen at the hinges. _What is it about that student?_ His hands go cold at the thought. _It’s nothing, let it go. Trust the process,_ he reminds himself and shakes his body forcefully in a bid to rid it of the negative energy lingering subbornly in his limbs.

He carries the loot to the den/guest room/ future baby room when the time comes. He opens the Hope Chest/toy box and places the items lovingly inside to join the other items he’s collected over the years. He picks up a giraffe stuffed toy, boops its nose and tosses it back in.

An album catches his eye and his breath hitches. Taking it out, he leans up against the bookshelf and gives the pages a quick sniff as he quickly thumbs the corner whiffing the pages as they whizz past. Good books should also smell good. It’s a law of the universe in his world. Flipping the pages, he pauses and sighs thinking about the joy and pride he will feel when those pages are filled up with his baby, their baby. His heart fills to the brim and warmth spreads in his chest. Love is all there is. He is on the right path. He kisses the album and lovingly places it on top of a collection of blankies, bibs and burp rags. He closes the box and seals it with all the love and gratitude for the ever-providing universe. _Ask and you shall receive._

With visions of his future family firmly residing in his heart resonating out bright like the prayer candles at the Vatican, “Focus, Tommo,” he tells himself aloud and leaves the room. “Keep your eyes on the prize.”

Light on his feet, he ambles to the kitchen to start dinner. His lil tummy has been grumbling since he ran out of the house with a piece of buttered toast and he skipped lunch to meet with his undergraduate psych discussion group and then pored over gender theories in the library until he could ignore his belly needs no more.  

Predictably, the fridge of two graduate students is perpetually empty, save for a few take out containers best tossed without inspecting, so a trip to the grocery store was a must.

And now pot noodle time. He can do it. First, _where the fuck is the pot?_   _I know we had one. Seems like things go missing here._ An internal discussion for another day. First dinner—and a quick text to Berndt.

L: hey hotstuff. Dinner ready in 20. X

B: working late. Jung study group. Save me some. I’m hungry like a wolf! (dog emoji)

Louis chuckles imagining Berndt running upstairs, throwing the door open and growling for food only to be disappointed with the sad ass pot noodles. Wouldn’t be the first time. His cooking skills are certainly lacking. Enthusiasm, too, these days. It’s hard to find motivation when it’s just the two of them with odd hours and frankly, extremely low culinary expectations. He remembers his friend Zain telling him to approach a meal like lovemaking saying that to him food is like sex and it should be banging even if it is just for your own enjoyment.

 _Words to live by someday. “_ Huummph _,”_ he halfheartedly grunts to himself as he remembers that vignette, the moral evident _._

Sex has certainly been in short supply these days, _weeks, months._ Demand, too. The bed’s been a little too empty. Lots of very good, very courteous reasons why his boyfriend is not on the right side of their bed some nights, but it doesn’t make it any better, but he’s been making it up to himself as any man would—with porn, bathbombs and toys.

It's been an intimacy graveyard 'round these parts. He’s been batting around ideas that would help them to light that fire, again. Sex used to be pretty good and exciting, but eight years later it’s pretty standard now and he’s bored with it all. It’s not just that he wants to be tied up and spanked hard; it’s just that something is missing. Berndt’s been resistant to counseling, which is ironic and he is not interested in learning about exploring sexuality, also puzzling given their profession.

Louis has brought up acroyoga, couples massage, dates and he even bought Berndt a bondage kit from Good Vibrations that sat in the box forgotten about in the back of the sock drawer. It’s a shame because if you don’t know a man by his ankles, then what’s the point?

Louis figures the only thing that will work will be total immersion and committing to making an effort to their relationship.  He’s been researching for something that would strike all those poses and that kundalini yoga retreat is starting to sound better and better. It’s in the mountains and there are private accommodations so they can hopefully do a lot of hot-tubbing and fucking.

They need to recharge their batteries and reconnect and if they learned some tantra then it’s a bonus. He has things in his mind that he’d like to try sexually but that kinda requires a willing, interested partner and so far, it’s a lot of masturbation. Come-play and subspace aren’t as much fun alone. At least his dick is still halfway interested in his ideas with a little buttering up.

He’s mentioned the retreat a few times but it’s been received with non-committal, guttural distinctly German groans. Louis has done everything to make this easy on him, too. Even though Berndt is quite well-off due to some family funds, Louis did offer to pay.  

Louis imagines them holding hands in the hot springs, sipping kombucha and letting the sunshine refill them and reconnect them to their purpose, together. Togetherness. Oneness. His mind drifts thinking of it like a vow renewal, but when you live with truth on your tongue and love in your heart, that is all the commitment one really needs.

He locates a pot too small for the job. _I have faith in you little buddy_.  He fills the pot, puts it on the stove and chops up some red bell pepper for a proper flourish and some much needed vitamins.

He spies a bottle of red on the shelf and it is calling his name. He usually doesn’t drink throughout the week but he is craving some sort of escape.  He lights a candle, opens the wine, pours a glass and lets both him and it breathe.

Breathe.

Just breathe.

He checks in with his body and it feels tense like undirected, wild energy is flowing through it and it’s causing his system to be at constant attention. Guarded.  Hurrying around for no reason. He notices that his energy feels jagged, depleted. Chronic depletion. Perhaps he is becoming an example of Dr. Selye’s Stress experiment. Definitely in the exhaustion phase. Doctors are the worst patients. Everyone knows that. Any yogi, particularly one that is scholarly trained in the human mind and motivations, can tell you it is difficult to see and interface with the things right under your nose—or skin.

He needs to get it together. He needs to be a good example for this students and clients, partner and perhaps future children. He has all the skills necessary, just needs to practice them.

 _C’mon Doctor Tomlinson, get your shit together,_ he grumblemuses.

 _Ok, take a breath_ , and he fills his lungs, holds his breath for four seconds and exhales wiggling his shoulders. He places his hands on his belly to remind him to diaphragmatically breathe. _Push that belly out, shoulders down, relax your face, release your bum tension. Breathe with your belly._ He checks in with his prana and finds that his vital force feels low, slow and spiritually sluggish.

“A bit of dancing is just what the doctor ordered,” he mumbles as he inserts the stereo’s AUX cable to his iPhone, turns them both on and selects relaxation tracks from his music library.

The opening bars of [Canon in D ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNsgHMklBW0)play and his soul lifts.

He raises his hands above his head and stretches for the heavens and bends into a downward dog. _Feels so good to stretch,_ he thinks as he bends his knees one at a time ‘walking that dog’ and loosens up his hips by swishing his bottom in the air toward the ceiling. He feels a big pressure in his lower gut and toooooooot _. Been holding that one in for a long time._

He repeats these movements until he feels energy return to his legs and arms.  He stretches up again and it’s as if he is carried by the music. He feels his feet literally floating as he bounces around the flat like Mary Poppins, opening the windows, letting the fresh August evening air in. He dances around picking up stray items he’s been ignoring and placing them home in their rightful spots. His head sways and his arms bounce. He can feel his energy returning.

Life is for the living.

He lights various coloured candles and places them intuitively around the living area. He connects each colour to its particular chakra—a wheel of light energy running through the body—and sends love to his body as he lights them. Each candle’s golden glow calms him down as he gazes into the flame feeling the fire’s heat on his face. He notices that he feels a general return to his body as he turns off the distracting ambient light that was flooding his senses with familiarity, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…….”

He hears the lid clank around on the boiling pot and busts a move to the kitchen and puts the noodles in the pot of boiling water and starts the sauce on simmer. _Everything’s under control._

[Arioso](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2Oe3nkQji8) begins and he’s drawn to the green candle up gazing at its flicker. He watches the little, yet mighty flame dance as he gently waves his hands around the candle bathing himself in its light. He feathers the flame toward his heart, breathing deep and allows the pure light energy to enter his heart chakra. He slowly inhales and “Oohhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.” Slow inhale and “Oohhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

He places his hand on his heart and the other on his lower belly and checks in with the base chakra. Base chakra indicates basic needs of living: food, money, sex, housing, relationships. He notes it is quite shut down and moves his hips to initiate some energy flow. _Probably need to take a dump._ He hasn’t honored himself in that way today yet. _Have I been too busy to drop a log?_

With his right hand still anchored into the grounded openness of his heart chakra, he continues to check in with the rest of his energy centers.

Left hand floats to the sacral chakra. Big block again.  Sacral chakra is one’s emotional relationship to the base chakra as well as to the sex organs. Giving his sacral chakra the internal side-eye, he observes that these blocks are likely not the result of needing to have a bowel movement but rather the emotional constipation of all that he’s been suppressing. A big emotional shit is building up and threatening to turtlehead. He’s been picking some little fights to ease _that_ tension, but really, those are things he doesn’t want to look at or do anything about—but has to if he wants any relief.

 _The best thing always happens_ he comforts his strained psyche reciting this platitude, but his higher self mirrors back, _bullshitter_.

Standing in front of the flame, he sees his desires like an oasis from a mental magic carpet hovering above his future. He swallows hard, takes another deep breath and involuntarily shivers.

Noting that this chakra will likely not clear until he has that conversation with Berndt about forward-looking steps, he makes an executive decision to move up to the solar plexus. He places his left hand on his abdomen and lower rib cage; he takes a deep breath and notes this channel is open and strong. Self-esteem, check. _Yes, I can. Yes, I will._

Left hand moves up to the throat chakra. His voice. His ability to communicate. Speaking the truth. His truth. Weakly blocked and flagging. A visual of a bone-tired dog at the end of a leash leering openly up at him mentally begging him to release her from her bonds shakes him from this reverie. _Fuck. Am I the dog or the leash?_ he wonders. Both, he realizes as an unfamiliar sensation of internal honesty settles in. He observes the lightness in his system as the truth of his situation washes over him forming spiritual rivulets in his skin.

He breathes deep and draws the intense power and clarity from his heart chakra to his throat willing it to open. Breath after breath, quickly, willing that chakra to open with clear intention. When he became lightheaded from hyperventilation and realized the jig was up.

Where force predictably fails, choose power.  

He closes his eyes and loudly states, “I need more from you. What are we doing?!” The energy center was starting to awaken.  He opens his eyes and yells, “I need to know what we are doing. You need to tell me! I am tired of waiting!”

 He draws a long cleansing breath from his abdomen, arches his back and checks in with his throat chakra. Progress.  “Tell me the truth. Do you love me?! I need to know! I am not waiting for you to figure it out!” Almost fully open. “I deserve the world. I am a good person and I deserve the best. If you are not the one, then I am done!”

Open like a lotus. His body radiates light. _Sasha Fierce. Fuck me_.

Light emanates from the base of his forehead. Third-eye chakra, his favorite. Open. Like a wise appearing stranger gazing at you only to realize it is your older self in a dream. His trusted source of information. His intuition. His inner knowing.

Finally, crown chakra, hard to tell as the smell of burning noodles fills the room. Yikes. He runs to the kitchen to save the meal.  

Assessment: salvageable.  Avoiding the charred bits, he plates up and scoops some sticky noodles on to his plate with a dollop of sauce. He lifts his wine and thinks _Cheers to me_ and swallows the bitter notes down his throat tracing a line of fire to his empty stomach.

 

[Brahm’s Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t894eGoymio) fills the space and he feels his heart expand when those iconic opening notes play. A chill runs up his spine as he imagines rocking his baby to sleep humming those same bars. A lump forms in his throat and he stills and loves himself through the uncertainty.

Someday, Daddy.

Classical music provides his only companionship that evening. Lonely buffet for one.  Just him and his thoughts. His mind drifts as he spoons saucy noodles into his gob.

No one to impress tonight. His mind jumps from one subject to another like a praying mantis after its hyper, elusive prey. Just him and his thoughts feeling disconnected from his weary body, disconnected from the rest of the world save for the little and big matters that latch onto his psyche and scruffle up some anxious questions and worry.

Those fucking things. The inability to finish all of his projects. His research subjects are getting a bit repetitive and boring.  He’s scraping along, eye on the prize fueling his purpose. All those long hours becoming long years in graduate school are wearing him down. Less than one year until he puts grad school in his rearview, and he wants to hit the gas but he doesn’t have the energy.

Looking up, noting the late hour, no sign of his partner of eight years. Bath time. Bubbles, essential oils and salts.

Louis washes up the dishes and places the little pot on the drying rack.  He refills his wine glass and meanders into the empty living room. _Is this place becoming emptier?_

 _I have all I need_ , he reminds himself. Approaching each candle, thanking it for its service, he lovingly blows them out and closes the windows and blinds.

He carefully balances three lit candles, a wine glass and his iPhone in his hand and walks into the washroom. He sets the candles carefully along the tub’s rim illuminating the dark room. He adds his favorite Lush bath bomb, The Experimenter, to the rushing hot water and sits down inside soaking up the heat, scent and peace.

If only he could turn his mind off.

……..

His phone peeps. Zain. Reminding him of their lunch date tomorrow.

His phone peeps again. His mother asking if he can babysit at all this week.

He takes a deep breath, mentally dismisses them both and sinks deep in the tub. Fuck everything.

He towels off, takes a piss and a tremendous dump, brushes his teeth and makes his way out of the washroom. “Berndt? You home?” No answer. Checks his phone, nothing new.

Bed time. He crawls over to the left side of the bed, fluffs his pillow and pulls his duvet over his lower body. It’s too hot to be comfortable but covers himself out of the desire to have something touching him.

Loneliness burning hotter than the sun.

He kicks his legs a few times to get rid of the excess energy and tension. A few more deep breaths. _Letting go. It is what it is._ He mentally sends love and gratitude to his body parts one by one feeling his body release tension and relax with expanded awareness.

When he feels sufficiently loved, he slips on his AcousticSheep sleep headphones and lets his mind follow the rhythmic cadence of his Living Your Life Fully mediation track to a deep sleep.

Maybe it was the wine or the running water from his relaxation track but it’s 2 am and his bladder is banging on his sleeping body from the inside. He slips off his headphones and lays them on the bed---bed is still empty, no need to crawl over his partner.

After he takes a leak, he looks around the house in search of his boyfriend. He checks the living room, no sign. _Odd._ The door to the guest room was closed like it usually isn’t. Curious, he opens the door and peeks inside. He finds Berndt face up, open mouth catching flies, sleeping in his underclothes. His rucksack is leaned next to the bed and belongings are on the desk, iPhone and wallet neatly stacked. His jacket hangs over the chair neatly and he looks like a proper guest in his own flat.

Louis shakes his head and stares at his boyfriend sleeping soundly. His ears start to ring as his anxiety level rises.

He takes a step forward and stops and watches the rise and fall of his partner’s chest. Lifting his foot and pointing his toe like a cat burglar, he creeps noiselessly up to the bed, leans down and kisses Berndt’s cheek. As he pulls back he catches a whiff of an unknown smell. _Hmmm? Well, he does hug his students from time to time._ Satisfied with his assessment he turns on his heel and tiptoes out of the room.

Despite the early hour and desperate fatigue in his body, he suddenly finds himself wide awake and wanting to talk to Berndt. He suppresses the urge by walking circles around their bedroom, picking things up and tidying a bit.

After what seemed like an hour of distraction, anxiety seared his psyche, punching holes in it with questions and patching it up with fear-inducing answers. There was so much he wanted to talk about but it would have to wait.

He jumps when he thinks he hears a noise and slides out of his bedroom to inspect. First stop, Berndt. Standing like a creepy creeper he observes his lover snoring quietly, mentally miles away, and this puts him at ease. His mind must be creating paranoid type distractions for him—a sheer sign that he just needs to go to bed.

He rolls around the bed side to side willing his anxiety to leave his body. Cover on, cover off. T-shirt on, T-shirt off.

It is too late for any sleeping medicine so he has to just get to sleep the old fashion way--he has to take matters into his own hands, literally, figuratively and quickly.

He slips on his AcousticSheep and gets the lube from the bedside drawer. He fires up RedTube on his iPhone’s incognito website function and scans through the gay options.

He settles on one with a bloke that looks a bit like a curly haired Patrick Dempsey and one that looks a bit like himself, only buffer and with tattoos. _Ooooh, that’ll do_. Mentally chastising and forgiving himself for not choosing any resemblance to his partner, he presses the triangle play arrow with bated breath.

Sexy classical music came through his headphones as the opening scene begins.

Two lovers are set before an aesthetically beautiful meal, creative and sumptuous feeding each other delicately and sensually. His mind follows along easily but some part feels hollow and he feels a sense of loss as he strokes his slicked-up sleepy dick.

He is reminded of his sad ass pot noodles and Zain’s words.  The scene agonizingly moves to dessert where the curly haired one squeezes profiterole cream on the other’s cock and licks it off deftly, deep -throating it with no gag, just a praise-seeking look of adoration from the other man. _You’re doing really good, Curly,_ he mouths as he speeds up his right hand imagining his own dick sucked deeply, lost between those plush lips.  

Yowza, halfway home.

He arches off the pillow as his hand flies over his cock. He’s a pilot in the cockpit of an out of control plane. Jump seat about to deploy.

His body heats up and his body is covered in another round of sweat. Visibility shallow and hazy.  He cups his balls with his left hand and inhales through his nose to slow his roll or he won’t make it another 10 seconds. As his pleasure verges on crescendo, the music changes to a more sensual rhythm and he takes a sharp inhale and his hand follows the down-tempo beat.

The scene opens in a spacious bathroom with candles lit, windows open, sheer drapes billowing calmly. Everything about it emanating elegance.

At the sight of the two men caressing in the bubbly bathtub, Louis feels his cock plump even more and pulse in his hand. Louis is a sucker for those as his own fantasies involve a lot of bath play. The Louis character washes the curly one’s hair and they kiss deeply while the curly one’s hand bobs under the bubbles presumably stroking them both off with his big hands. 

As the genuinely romantic connection plays out for the viewer, he watches them wistfully. His hand and breath slow down.

His eyes zone out and he feels far away, removed from the present time somehow.

He wants that. A thick depression envelops his heart and he feels lost. He feels his body move into a place of lack and he notices himself observing himself—and it is a total dick wilter. He didn’t come to the porn site for romance, or to highlight the distinct lack of it in his life, but fuck. What happened to the quick jerk and nighty night plan?

He puts his iPhone down on the bed and places his left hand on his heart and breathes love into himself. Calming love. Pure self-love attempting to take the reins from the wrenching angst in his heart.

He didn’t pause the flick so the sounds of classical music laced with heavy breathing swirl in the anxious, empty parts of his brain.

His mind feels suspended between realities until a deep belly guffaw comes through the headphones and he’s startled out of his judgmental, hollow self-love reverie by a hauntingly delightful laugh and what must be his partner giggling, too.

Pushed over the edge of emotional tolerance, he whips the headphones off, wipes his limp dick on Berndt’s duvet and sticky slick hand on Berndt’s side bed sheets and forces himself to go unconscious.

........

Marimba building slowly in his awareness indicated that morning had come too early. In his sleep haze, he reached out for Berndt but was left with a cold, empty bed in response.

 _Why did I agree to teach this fucking class?_ He showers, grabs some OJ and toast, gets into his yoga clothes and peeks in on his sleeping partner before he hustled out for the Saturday Sunrise Bliss class at the studio.

Despite his sleep-edgy mind, lightness filled his body. The class was really powerful today and he felt on top of his yoga teacher game.

He led the class through some poses and felt an intense connection running between him and the students and among the students themselves. A conscious community. It was very satisfying and thrilling to be at the helm of people sinking into the strength and beauty of themselves and waking up the divine consciousness in the heart of their beings.

As the walk home grew longer, the endorphins wore off and he was back in his head. Alone.  In the quiet recesses of his mind where twisted thoughts wait and fears marinate, he hears echoes of the deep laugh followed by the light giggles and his heart cringes with jealousy. His jaw tightens and the metallic taste of blood comes onto his tongue.

He tends to be a tiger for what he wants and lately he’s been a docile housecat napping on a fluffy cushion.

Something’s got to change.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: panic attack. Louis is kind of prone to them, fair warning.

When Louis returns home Berndt is not there. No text. No note. His laptop is open in the guest room but all of his personal belongings are gone. _Perhaps there’s a clue?_

Louis fires off a quick text to Berndt to check in and he hears a peep coming from the guest bedroom area. He texts him again and a few seconds later hears a peep coming from the same direction. Louis follows the noise like a blood hound hot on a scent’s trail and finds Berndt’s iPhone tucked between the desk and bed. Damn _, that’s no good._ He picks it up and places it on the desk next to the laptop.

 _On second thought, best just leave it where it was. Looks less suspicious._ So he puts it back in the crevice to ease his conscience.

 _Who leaves the house without his cell phone? That’s irresponsible._ He shrugs off some creepy vibey weirdness sucking at him, winding around his limbs.

Louis busies himself around the flat for what seems like hours killing time until he meets up with Zain. He keeps thinking about that laptop and scolding himself for wanting to sneak a peek.

To snoop.

He attempts to tamp down the barge of curiosity steaming into port, threatening his peace of mind. He checks in with himself after the laundry is folded and his desk is semi-organized, and he finds himself feeling uneasy. Unsettled and honestly destabilized. His emotional fortitude disappears like a fart in the wind and traps him like he's in an old fashioned freezer--just a matter of time before he gets locked inside and suffocates.

He knows what needs to be done.

He locks the front doorknob and deadbolts the upper lock. He turns off the stereo making it dead silent in the flat save for that ticking clock.  Then he walks into the guest room and sits at the desk staring at the dark screen of the laptop. The power light is flickering indicating that it was not shut down. He buries his face in his hands and feels waves of guilt, anger and unease thrust into his psyche. _Just step away, Tommo._

He gets up and out of sheer need to busy his hands he makes the guest bed and straightens the magazines on the shelf, blows dust bunnies around.

The laptop beckons him like a harpie. Calling him, enticing him with flickers. Come here, turn me on.

Drawn like a magnet moved by a force beyond volition, he touched the space bar and activated the laptop.  Update 100% complete. It is now safe to turn off your computer.

_Fucking updates._

Well, maybe it’s a sign. Louis’ whole body contracted as he double tapped Google Chrome and waited for the screen to load up. Knowing Berndt’s privacy settings delete all history and cookies every 24 hours, this was likely going to be a fruitless spying adventure.

He mentally pauses, if roles were reversed, Louis assesses that there would be minimum damage from his boyfriend scrolling his internet history—on his laptop and thank goodness for private settings on his iPhone, just in case. How awkward it would be watching that lovely porn with his actual boyfriend. That’s for his eyes only.  In his mind, switching Berndt for the curly character would be an outrage. Perish the thought. Even considering it elicits such a strong reaction that Louis wants to spit and curse it like his Greek friends do when they want to prevent evil spirits from attaching to them.

Google Chrome’s homepage presents itself fresh and ready to be asked questions or search tirelessly for information. He sits in front of it and debates his next move.

But first, he needs a cuppa. Badly. His nerves are firing erratically and his heart is beating out of his chest. His ears fill with white static noise like the anxious undertones of being a pedestrian walking in a dirty, heavily traveled traffic tunnel. Too much activity, high pitched sounds whizzing past mixed with some growly ones, danger nearby, sooty pollution all around, a driving desire to be on the other side but there is no end in sight unless you keep walking. The light at the end of the tunnel could be a car coming for you.

He dips his tea bag in the steaming water and sits back down at the desk. With depersonalized confidence, he hits ctrl +H and the history pops up. It must not have reset as a few lines were available for snooping from 7:36 to 8:32 am this morning.

Kundalini Exploration Retreat, _Interesting. He’s thinking about going._

Blutrecht: German citizenship for children born abroad to German citizens. _Oh my goodness, our kids!_

And a jewelry website. _It’s happening. Holy shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit._

He quickly closed down the browser and returned the computer to its sleep status.

He messes up the guest bed to restore it to its previous state and runs out of the room splashing his tea on the way out.

It’s like he’s been in a time warp because if he left 10 minutes ago, driving 10 km over the speed limit he would only be 15 minutes late meeting Zain. He grabs his keys, wallet and phone and blasts out the door.

The sheer anxiety of the morning’s events settled like tiny daggers in his skin, pricking his skin leaking guilt. He felt like he could not cover up the messy demeanor if he had to. He double checks his appearance in the rearview mirror at a stop light. Confirmed: he looks mentally unstable and emotionally labile. He’s extra sweaty with wetness seeping through his yoga clothes. The OM symbol is covered in sweat and guilt. More like OMG WTF.  His skin is blotchy and his hair is a fucking mess. His glasses are full of smudges and schmutz.

Good thing Zain is not judgmental and could really not give a shit about relationships.  No advice. Not his forte. Not his thing. Safe territory.

He arrives at the café and Zain is not in the seating area. He wanders outside and finds him smoking while casually chatting up a very good looking couple.  Louis is not into straight couple threesomes, but he could close one eye and see the dude and his friend making a smashing romp duo. It’s not his fault that Zain is unfairly handsome and endlessly attractive whether he is pairing a motorcycle jacket with a mini skirt, heels and makeup or jeans, boots and a quiff. Berndt used to get jealous until he became more acquainted with Zain and his female alter ego, also Zain just with female attire—and Louis has always been faithful and not given him any reason to worry. It’s not his fault his best friend is fucking hawt.

Louis slowly approaches the trio and schools his expression to be more neutral instead of the frantic just scratching beneath the surface like the panic of a starving animal crawling through a wall.

He catches Zain’s eye and he sees his friend’s brown eyes widen and his mouth fall open, his head tilting to the side.

He steps away from the pair, “Bruh, you ok?”

“Uhm, yeah, I guess so,” he lies and looks at the ground as if it contained answers he desperately needed.

Zain turns around and waves to the couple. “Ok, nice meeting you two. Take care and good luck with everything.” Zain cordially blurts out more good byes and takes Louis by the arm and leads him away from people.  “Dude, are you ok?” he says leveling his gaze into Louis’ blue eyes. “You don’t look good.”

He assesses Louis head to toe capturing an impression, a skill they learned in psych grad training. Louis looks away under Zain’s analytic gaze. “No, seriously. What’s going on? Did you have another panic attack?” he asks as he holds Louis firm in his arms, enveloping him with his groundedness.

Louis’ body shakes involuntarily and his eyes leak tears so full stream that he can’t focus even if he wanted to, but his head is buried in Zain’s shoulder so he’s not challenging himself at the moment. “Can’t really describe. What‘m feeling,” Louis rasps between crying spells.

“Just breathe with me, Bro,” Zain instructs as he takes an exaggerated in-breath and exhales stale smoke deep from his lungs. “Just breathe, man. I know you can do that for me, man. You are really good at breathing and calming down.”

He holds Louis’ hands over his head in an effort to steady his rapid, shallow breaths. “Just breathe, Lou. Shit.” They stand like that for at least 5 respiratory cycles. In and out.  

Time passing like Louis is trapped underwater, weights on his legs. “In through your nose for six and breathe out your mouth for eight. I’m counting that shit, so don’t try to cheat.” Against the emotional elephant standing on his chest, Louis regains some composure. Zain laughs, “You taught me that trick. Now what in the fuck is really going on with you?”

Louis shies away and can feel himself emotionally shunting.

Zain guides them to a bench in the shade and slips his arm over Louis’ shoulders tugging him into a side hug-cuddle, “C’mon BooBoo, what did he do to you?”

Louis chuckles and nuzzles a bit deeper into Zain’s neck. Zain’s rubbing his head and stroking his hair so kindly that he could almost start crying from feeling that, from starting to feel again. Human emotions wafting through his crumbling exterior.

“I don’t want to burden you with our troubles,” Louis says softly.

“You know, man,  I know you. Now talk to me.” Zain turns to face him and gently places his hands on Louis’ cheeks drawing their foreheads together, third eye to third eye.

Louis feels a calm transmit through his body like a thick healing wave smoothing out the bloody edges and bumps, like he’s just been emotionally defibrillated and is now back in steady sinus rhythm.

“Thanks man,” he utters as he sits up straight and takes a deep, cleansing breath, feeling his shoulders relax and he is slowly returning to his body. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“Start where you are,” he says tapping Louis’ legs bringing him to the here and now.  “You know the story is bullshit and the backstory and whatever you are telling yourself to make sense of whatever you think is upsetting you. It’s all cogitations and rationale and bullshit fear. Speak from your knowing. Talk to me.”

Louis looks up at Zain like he knows what’s coming.

“Truth: are you happy?” Zain shoots straight into Louis' heart.

“No,” Louis resigns and sighs deeply.

“Truth: are you willing to be happy?” Another arrow landed.

“Uhm….” Louis drags out while biting his bottom lip and looking at the ground vacantly.

“Ok, you are blocking it,” pointing a finger in to Louis’ chest, “which you know."

Louis nods and allows himself to be distracted by the autumn leaves changing color in the distance.

“What is it that you are ignoring that if you stop ignoring –and call out—would change everything?”

“I’m depleted.” Louis lifts his shoulders, releases them and shrinks down a bit like he is giving up.

“Ok, but you know that. So what piece of information are you trying to suppress from your knowing that if you would trust your body to handle, it would change everything with grace and ease?”

“I need to break up with Berndt,” Louis states without conviction.

“Ok.  Truth: are you afraid of being alone?”

“Yes,” he uttered without hesitation.

“Are you more afraid of being alone or more afraid of being free?”

“I don’t even understand that question.”

“That means that it flipped your circuits. I love when that happens. That's your question.”

Louis slumps back and mentally rehearses the question buying time.

“I just….blah,” he says throwing his hands out shaking them around in an agitated fashion.

“What’s more true: his actions or his words?”

“His actions, of course.”

“Ok, then.”

Louis sighs and picks at the string on the inseam of his yoga pants. “It’s just that something happened today and I thought for sure things were going one way and now it seems like things are complete opposite. I just don’t know.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t say ‘I don’t know’. You cut off your awareness when you do that. You do know. Your relationship is only an enigma if you make it one or allow it to confuse you. You know, man.”

“Zain, I know you know, and you mean well,” Zain gives him the side-eye head shake in disbelief in response to his words.  “And I don’t doubt you but it is hard. It’s been eight years. We’ve made plans for a future together. Big plans.  Being with him is all I know.” He looks up to the sky, “And, I think I love him.”

“Back to the question. From your heart. From your knowing. No bullshit. No fear hissing in your ears. Are you more afraid of being alone or more afraid of being free?”

Louis looks up exasperatedly.

“And by being free, I don’t mean being single. It is bigger than that. It is stepping in to your power. It is seeing yourself for who you are. It is being the best version of yourself. It is allowing all that the universe intends to come to you to come to you with open arms. It is knowing that you know and living in alignment with your highest self. It’s fulfilling your soul’s purpose. And you don’t get that by clinging to some broken down relationship where you constantly deny your intuition, suppress your true self and reject the gifts that the universe has for you.”

Louis thrusts his hands to his eyes which are pouring with tears.

“You can cry, man, but you know in your heart that it is true. That pain is temporary. Clinging to fear is toxic for the soul.  You should be happy, if happiness is what you truly seek.” Zain rubs his palms lovingly on his friend’s back, “We are not put on this earth to suffer. But it is your choice. Always your choice.”

Louis’ breathing evens out and he feels lit up from the inside like he just received a reading from The Oracle at Delphi.

“I’m hungry, man. Let’s eat. I’ve been painting all day and working up an appetite thinking ‘bout this Reuben.”

“Oooh, who’s Reuben? Someone you met online?” Louis asks quickly.

“Nah, man. The sandwich. You’re really loopy. Let’s get some food into you so you can get back to you you and not loulou from the zoozoo,” Zain teases while leading him toward the café. “Loulou from the poopoo zoozoo.”

“You are a dork.”

“I’m a dork that’s standing in my light of dorkitude. The force is strong with this one” he says while wielding an imaginary light sabre.  “Better than the poopoo zoozoo Loulou,” he says as he pinches his nose and grabs a handful of Louis’ hot arse.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, I was wondering if you might want to come over after school?” Harry asks shyly leaning up on the door frame to Richard’s third period classroom. His eyes peek through the curly fringe that fell out from the hair scarf loosely wound losing the battle to contain his mop.

“Yeah...that’s a possibility,” Richard responds coy, yet confident. “What's up?”

“Errrm, would it be too cheesy to say Netflix and chill?” he says with a hopeful smile peeking through the teenage awkwardness that belies many of his interactions.

“Well, if you want to fuck, let’s go to my house.”

Harry straightens up for a moment and slumps again. “That’s not all I had in mind.”

“It’s easier and I can’t smoke at your house, so…..” Richard responds tersly, eyes and mouth a thin line.

Harry's back body feels cold and a wave of numbness returns to his system. He feels like someone else answers on behalf of his weaker self. "Ok, if that is what you want."

“Three o’clock, then?”

“Sure.”

“Can you bring some snacks?  I get hungry  fucking you, so it’d be appreciated if you fuel the machine, so to speak,” Richard pats his cock appreciatively through his own pants like it deserved an award for valor or some rubbish.

“Ok. Just text me what you want and I can stop at Tesco’s on my way over,” Harry leans in for a sneaky kiss and nearly runs into the door jamb as Richard turned and was already three steps down the hall.

The rest of the day predictably drags on. Harry’s bum is still quite sore from the last go-round at Richard’s. More lube for sure this time. And more prep. _I wonder if there will be any more weird plants?_ He wonders while daydreaming about the last few rendezvouses they had at Richard’s place. Things popping up out of nowhere. _They really need an interior designer._

A friend tries to chat with him but he jettisons his buddy and bolts to his locker, quickly deposits his books and makes a bee-line to Tesco with the shopping snack list.

When he arrives at Richard’s house no one answers the doorbell, so he goes in through the side gate toward the back yard where he finds his paramour puffing on a cig completely engrossed with his iPhone.

Harry clears his throat to alert Richard to his presence.

Once he snuck up on Richard, or so Richard thought and he jumped sky high and was a bitter bitch the rest of the afternoon. Harry didn’t even get a hand job but instead got ignored and struck with rubber bands. He got one stuck in his hair and it snarled so badly with the curls and the sticky drying jizz that he had to cut it out.  

He’d like to avoid that in the future. He figures, if he made the effort and he’s nice and gave a blow job, then he should at least get a handy. Richard has a few things to learn about fairness. Being raised by a high ranking military official for a father has left much to be desired in the compassionate, maybe boyfriend category.

He clears his throat a little louder and walks slowly closer toward Richard figuring he must be in his peripheral vision by now. Richard appears to be in his own world tapping away on his phone. Must be a new version of Angry Birds.

Harry checks his watch. 2:59 right on time. He made up time with those long, determined strides. Probably looked fucking weird like some gangly, amped up ostrich but so be it, he is here on time.

“Hi,” he says softly standing about 8 feet from Richard.

“Jesus, fuck. You scared me!” he hitched back and cowered a bit. “Don’t do that shit. You announce yourself like a normal person. Not sneaking in like a fucking prowler.”

“I did, like three times,” Harry drawls while looking on like he’s tired of stating the obvious.

“It’s just been since the break in, things here have been hella tense. My dad thinks whoever stole his keys is going to come back for his guns.”

“I thought that it wasn’t actually confirmed and that maybe he just lost his keys? Right?”

“Yeah, there were no broken windows or anything suspicious. It’s just…..he thinks things are one way and that’s that.”

“Oh, that explains a lot,” Harry says flippantly, not even trying to hide it.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Richard demands with fire in his tone. He lights another cigarette, inhaling deeply and blow the smoke aggressively toward Harry.

“Nothing important,” Harry defuses. “Just that, I mean I’ve never met your dad…”

Richard cuts him off quickly “And you never will.”

“Well, that’s not nice.”

“So what?”

“You know what? Never mind. You are not being nice and I’m just going to leave.” He stares at Richard for a count of two, then turns on his heel and heads toward the gate getting acquainted with his inner dramatic hoe.

“Wait Harry.”

Harry slows but doesn’t turn around. Seems both he and Richard are waiting for the moment Richard makes it better. They’ve seen enough movies to know how this is supposed to go.

“Harry, please?” he catches up to Harry and pulls him into a backwards hug.

Harry releases a bit of built up tension and allows himself to be pulled into Richard, rolling his neck and head back into Richard’s shoulder for what may pass as a standing cuddle.

Richard took a puff with his right hand and gripped Harry’s hips possessively with his left and started bumping his dick lump at Harry’s backside.

Harry’s always been a bit of a romantic or so he fancied himself to be one from the books he’s read and movies he’s watched. Amorphous dick lump bumping into his bum whilst in a cloud of cigarette smoke certainly did not make the director’s cut in any of the movies he’s seen.

He pulls himself away from the less than tantalizing display of pre-copulation activity. He can just jerk off in the bath tub at home. This isn’t doing it for him today.

“I’m going to go,” he states decisively, turning sharply and strides toward the gate.

Richard jerks his shoulder to make Harry face him. “I didn’t say you could leave,” he gives his best convincing smile through unmasked condescending eyes.

“Like I said, I‘m going to go.”

“What is wrong with you today? It’s like you are on your period. Fuck,” Richard said sharply, lunging toward him.

Harry carefully walks backward, not taking his eyes off of Richard, “You’re really rude. You know that? Why are you such a dickhead?”

“I’ll show you a dick head since you seem to be the expert,” he unzips and whips his semi out. “You’re a dick sucking pro. Got quite a rep,” his words drip as he strokes his cock, eyes closed, mouth slightly agape.

 _Only models get away with that look. You just look like a schmoe._ Harry thinks as he turns to leave.

“Come back when you’re a big boy that’s ready to fuck," Richard states with arrogance.

Harry nods in a see-you-never way and opens the gate.

“Leave the stuff at least. Jeez.”

Harry ignores him and closes the gate.

“Harry, I’m hungry.”

 _Me, too, bitch. Me, too, the fuck._ He thinks as he makes his way down the path from the side yard to the sidewalk washing that cur out of his emotional hair.  

“Harrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyy. Don’t leave. I need you. Please,” Richard calls out his voice carrying quite a distance. Harry keeps walking. “Harrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!” Harry’s heart leaps and he turns back around and walks toward the house. “Harrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyy! I love you!!!!! Don’t leave meeeeeee!” Richard bellows loudly even though Harry is a few steps away from the gate.

Harry approaches silently and he sees Richard facing at an angle away from him on his knees stroking his cock to whatever he is watching on the screen of his iPhone talking quietly to himself. “Harrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyy, please, Harrrrry. Please Harry, suck me Harry. I need you Harry. Need you.  Please Harry, ugggghhh,” he whisper-groans more quietly to himself. “God, Harry. Yes. Suck me. Suck my dick, soldier. Harry, you little pansy bitch. Suck me,” Richard strokes himself furiously, back arching, pelvis pumping and cursing softly.

Harry chooses a candy bar from the bag and throws the rest of it at him striking his torso like shotgun spray.

He thinks about his composure for a split second, then says “Fuck this!” and runs out of there.

By the time he gets home he has mostly calmed down. He’s trying to put what he saw out of his mind. Under other circumstances that could have been hot but as it was he wanted to turn the hose on him and spray his name out of Richard’s mouth.  Disgusting. Coarse language. You can tell he wasn’t raised by his mumma.

His mum greets him with a smile and a warm hug. “Welcome home, my Love,” scrunching her nose as she sniffs him. “Honey, you smell like cigarettes again. That worries me,” she says in a disapproving tone that matches her expression.

He wiggles out of her arms and stood a safe-smelling distance away. “I know, Mum. It’s gross. I don’t smoke, of course. It won’t happen again.” He’s said it before but this time he really means it at the moment.

“Tell me about your day, Sweety,” his mum requests gently while walking toward him nearly closing the gap.

Prickles of anxiety get his feet moving away away away until he bumps up on the couch and says “I’m just really tired now. Can we talk about it later? I’m going to lie down.”  

That was that. Out for the night. He wakes up with rank breath and itchy from sleeping in his day clothes.

Despite sleeping for 14 hours, he is still exhausted when his mum wakes him for school.

“Rise and shine, Lovey!”

“I can’t today, Mum. Feel so tired.”

“Just come downstairs and I’ll make you your favourite. You’ll feel better in no time. Just need something in your tumtum.”

After the shower, he dresses and comes downstairs. The smell is so strong he feels like he is going to throw up so he runs to the toilet and heaves bile.

“Mum, that smells gross!” he announces as he pinches his nose at the plate of eggs on toast.

“Honey, this is your favourite. Made in the way you always like.” She looks at him turning green at the sight of her specialty meal. “Honey, you don’t look good. Let me feel your forehead.” She places the back of one hand on her forehead and the other on Harry’s, “No fever.”

Harry just groans and sits down sipping some water. The thought of tea turns his stomach.

“Do you want to see a doctor? Do you want to stay home from school today?”

“Uhhhgh,” he groans. “I’ll be ok. I’m just so tired. I could sleep all day. I just want to lay my head down for another minute….” are the last words he speaks before he collapses into his elbow crease at the countertop.

She watches him for several hours, snoring away at the counter, occasionally twitching, but otherwise dead to the world. She decides to work from home today to keep an eye on him.

Around noon he wakes up and takes a sip of water, looked around disoriented, wanders to the couch and passes out for a few more hours.

At three, he is startled by his mom placing her hand on his forehead again, “Honey, sorry to wake you. It’s just that you’ve been sleeping all day and I’m worried about you.”

He smiles through his grimace, “I don’t feel good mum, but I don’t feel bad. I don’t know what is going on. I am just really, really tired.”


	5. Chapter 5

R: Didn’t see you in History. You ditching again?

H: No.

H: Maybe.  Still not feeling good.

R: Feel better.

H: TY

R: I might have something for u if u can stop by this aftn.

H: ?

R: Just a little something to make u feel better.

H: K. I’ll text u after this appt.

“Harry Styles?” the nurse calls out with a smile in her voice and a rather thick file in her hand. He’s been seeing quite a few doctors lately and it looks like all of their notes, labs and imaging reports are in there. It’s been a collaborative effort trying to get to the bottom of what is wrong with this sweet kid.

Harry’s mum stands up and offers her hand to her son to help him up.  He supports his lower belly with his arm.

He’s led through the routine: weight, vital signs, brief check in about the main reasons he’s there.

The doctor enters the examination room and greets Harry with a smile and gives his mother a quick look of parental concern that is not missed by Harry.

“How are you feeling, Harry? Still nauseous? Tummy upset?” the doctor asks while studying his notes.

“Yes, I am. Everything smells really gross and I’m throwing up a few times a day. ”

“Ok. Do you feel better when you throw up?”

“I don’t. The feeling that I am going to throw up is there whether I throw up or not.”

“Do you feel like you are getting enough to eat?” his pen making notes in the chart, concern plain on his face. “I ask because your weight keeps going up and you were having some discomfort in your abdomen on your last visit. Are you able to have regular, normal bowel movements?”

“I’m still having some pain and I’m not able to have my normal poops. I’ve been kind of constipated for a few weeks.”

“Well, all of your blood labs were normal. No iron-deficient anemia to explain the fatigue. Also, the iron can be constipating so you may want to stop taking the supplements.” Harry nods. “Your urine test came back within normal limits, too. Your chest X-ray was negative, which is good, but it had something at the base of the image that we want to have another look at, so I am going to send you for some abdominal films to capture that area.”

“Doctor, what do you think is going on with my son?” Anne asks reaching out to hold Harry’s hand.

He scratches his head and puts the file down, looking directly at her, “I am not sure at this point which is why we want to get some abdominal films to see if Harry has something going on with his intestines. His abdomen looks a bit distended and he’s been complaining of cramping and not being able to have a satisfying, full bowel movement, so there may be something there that we can treat—but we have to know what it is first.”

Harry’s mum nods and a look of discomfort evident as worry shrouds her face.

He continues, “For the test, Harry, you are going to drink a thick liquid with some barium in it. The barium shows up on the X-ray and shows us if there are any blockages in your intestines.”

Harry gags openly at the thought and grimaces thinking about it.

“Dr. Adams, the psychiatrist that you saw last week said you had some school and social stressors, but not anything that would that he thinks would manifest organically as this,” he says presenting his open hand toward Harry like he was on display. He pivots to face Anne and continues, “Anything is possible, but he thought that Harry might benefit from some ongoing counseling. There is a free program affiliated with the University of Manchester.”

He hands Harry and his mum a card with some information on it. “You can call this number and you will be connected to the specialist who does outreach at your school.”

Harry looks down, feeling his heart sink upon hearing those words, "Do you think I’m crazy, doctor?”

“No. No, Harry I do not,” he says honestly and calmly with his hands in his lap, slightly fidgeting.

“Is it because I’m gay--” he looks directly to his mother who has gone from slumping to being completely erect, eyes wide, upon hearing that bit of news, “—that you want me to see a therapist?” He feels his mum’s fingers interlaced with his own.  He takes a shallow breath and looks up to the doctor.

“Yes and no,” he looks between Harry and his mum taking in their interaction. “I take it this is the first you are hearing of this, Mrs. Styles?”

“Um, yes, but it’s something I’ve known—or had suspicions about for a long time. A mother knows.” She turns toward Harry, “Baby, I love you. I love you for all that you are. And I am here to support you on your journey in any way I can.”

“Thanks Mum. Sorry to tell you like this. Not the way I planned,” he muttered with his eyes trained on his toes, breathing shallow.

“It’s ok, baby. I’ve known that you might be for a long time. We can talk about it later if you want.”

“So, back to your question, Harry. No, I don’t think you have any clear mental illness but due to all that’s going on in your life, it may be best to have a counselor to talk to. Kids these days are under immense pressure…“

He pauses and uses a less clinical, more fatherly measured tone, “and, speaking as a father of a queer child, it was hard to see her struggle with things as she was becoming clearer with her identity. I, regrettably, didn’t have the foresight your mum has and missed all the signs. It was a hard time for our family as we were all adapting to the changes. The new normal.”

He takes a quiet deep breath and continues,  “I was raised in a strict catholic family with a dad in the Royal Navy. It was a different time. Some things were less acceptable. Up until 1987, homosexuality was seen medically as a possible mental illness. It had a code in the DSM and everything. I thought it was something that could be treated, fixed.”

He takes another deep breath, “I digress, but it was very hard on my wife at the time. We are no longer together in part due to a combination of stresses, really, and my daughter is estranged from us both.” He wipes a tear from his eye and slumps his shoulders.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Harry says as his eyes train on the doctor's face.

“Thank you. It’s been really hard,” his face placid, his eyes far away. A few drawn moments pass before he snaps back into doctor mode, “So, the next steps are to get some abdominal films to rule out any intestinal issue and then we can take it from there. This is all been a bit of a medical mystery. After you get the films, please come see me within the week to discuss the results and further plan.”

Harry shakes his head in agreement.

“Until then, just listen to your body, rest and try to eat foods that are nutritious. You mentioned craving chips, but those are essentially grease and empty carbohydrates and can further upset your digestion. They are also full of sodium which can cause you to retain water and become bloated.  Maybe a protein shake and a multiple vitamin. There are some gummy varieties that are quite tasty. You can make an appointment for the abdominal films at the front with the secretary and then with me a few days later. Ok?”

“Yes. All clear, doctor. Thank you.”

“Thank you, too, for your candor and understanding,” Harry’s mum adds as they are standing in the exam room saying their goodbyes and she pulls him into a hug. His body stiffens initially then visibly relaxes into it.

The radiology department was able to squeeze him in on Thursday morning. After all the appointments are set, Harry feels unsettled and uncomfortable in his skin. The ride afterward is awkward to say the least.  He puts in his earbuds, reclines the seat and closes his eyes.

They stop at a fresh juice store and he gets a smoothie. He gags it down and it settles uneasily on his bloated, poochy stomach. His mind drifts to Richard and his words. He sends him a quick text to see if the offer is still good. He responds back with an eggplant and squirting water emoji, so Harry takes that as a yes.

“Mum, could you drop me off at a friend’s house? He has notes from the history class I missed today.”

His mom looks at him cautiously and Harry starts babbling, “He’s just a good friend and I need to keep up with my work. We’ve been studying together lately. Revising.  I know my marks are dropping but that’s just because I’ve been feeling so poorly. He’s really been helping me. He’s been tutoring me in maths, too. It would just be for an hour or two. I just need this right now.”

“Harry, is this your boyfriend? Is this the friend that smokes?” Anne can sense his dishonesty and is keeping it real.  

“No, he's not my..,” he says quickly. “And yes, he does smoke sometimes.” He feels slightly ashamed that he is associated with someone who has such a disgusting habit.

“Harry, I do your laundry,” she looks at him knowingly. “I know you are sexually active and I hope you are being careful.”

Harry stiffens and becomes mortified with the knowledge that his mum has the inside info on his sex life.

“Mum, don’t worry about that.”

“Harry, I am your mum and I do worry. Back in my day, the most we had to worry about from unprotected sex was getting pregnant, but now there are so many diseases and I just worry about you. You are my baby.”

“Mum, I’m seventeen.”

“That’s exactly why I worry. Seventeen year olds think they know everything and are invincible but you get to my age and you see just how stupid you were.”

Harry responds defensively, “Mum, I’m not stupid.”

“I know, baby. It came out wrong.” They both chuckle lightly at the reference, with Harry coming out today and all.

A few minutes pass in uncomfortable silence.

“Can you drop me off on the corner of McArthur and Smythe and I can take it from there.”

“No, I will drop you off at his house. Give me the address.”

He arrives a few minutes later at Richard’s house. Perfume lingering from this mum’s hugs and kisses. No one appears to be home. Out of habit and courtesy, he starts at the front door, even though Richard spends most of his time smoking on the patio. He knocks and stands off to the side. The front door swings up and Harry jumps back a bit.

“Come in my dear,” Richard steps to the side and welcomes Harry to his home. His dad must be working late again as Richard seems quite relaxed.

There’s a movie paused on the flat screen in the living room and there are cheese and crackers on a platter. There are a few varieties of soda and refreshments on the table as well with two empty glasses with ice.

“I didn’t know what you felt like drinking other than…” he pats and palms his dick area and smirks.

“All of this is so nice. So different. Are we celebrating something?” Harry asks cautiously.

“No. Just you’ve been sick so I wanted to do something to make you feel better,” he gathers Harry up in an embrace. He turns his mouth to whisper in Harry’s ear, “And I care about you. Sorry, I have a fucked up way of showing it. I don’t want to be remembered as the first and worst boyfriend you ever had.”

“Haha, well you were at the top of the list,” Harry teases, but not really. He's a poor actor but doesn't want to come off as being insensitive, so he follows the statement up with some sweet kisses to Richard's cheeks.

Being each other’s first male partners (and virgins) came with some benefits, like they don’t have to use protection but the sex still sucks because they don’t know what they are doing.

“You weren’t up for any achievement awards yourself, Harry,” he scoffs and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe the Big Dick award for that monster between your legs,” he reaches forward cupping Harry’s ample cock, giving it a squeeze. “And you wonder why I won’t let you fuck me?” Richard says tenderly.

Harry turns and tilts his head and opens his lips, drawing Richard into a more intimate kiss.

“Ohhh, Harry, we better slow down. I waa....aaant to take care of you, first,” as he takes Harry by the hand and leads him to the couch. He presses play and movie resumes mid scene.

A standard-type gay porn played on the big screen as they both sat there quietly. After a few minutes, Harry started getting restless and began palming his cock through his trousers. Definitely some interest growing.

Richard swats Harry’s hand away, “Let me do this for you.”  He gropes Harry’s hardness through his pants. “Stand up for me? Something I want to try.”

Harry allows himself to be led to the middle of the living room, porn scene involving some heated, rushed vapid rapid fucking in the background. Not Harry’s preferred type but he can improvise when the situation calls.

Richard fumbles with the buttons of Harry’s tight jeans but gets them open and pulls them off of his bum and down to his legs taking some of his underpants with it. “Ooops,” he says as he takes the underpants fully down. Harry’s hard cock bobs in the air, all eyes on it like it is a national monument observed reverently by the masses.

Richard gets down on his knees and Harry has to brace himself. He looks around but there is nothing to lean against so he mentally steels himself for what is about to come.

He moans involuntarily as Richard starts slurping on his dick. His boyfriend’s mouth is a little too tense on his sensitive cock but he’s coming in 10 seconds regardless so he pulls Richard’s hair as a cum courtesy so he can pull off before he shoots his load in his own right hand covering it with the left to catch any drips. Richard’s hand is furiously working over his own cock and follows Harry's release a few seconds later with a self-satisfied grunt.

A few moments pass before he can catch his breath and come back into his body, pleasure pulsing from experiencing his first blow job.

“How are you so good at that?” is the only thing he can string together to say.

“In this household, you are not allowed to be bad at things,” he states as a matter of fact then drops his face away from Harry.

“Wait, whuut?” Harry drawls while searching his boyfriend’s face for hidden meaning.

“Oh, nothing. It’s just my dad always has high expectations of me,” he states quickly and shakes his head.

“Hold on, babe,” Harry says as he slides down to his knees to be on Richard’s level. “What does _that_ mean?”

“Nothing. Don’t read into it,” Richard’s face taking on a crimson hue under Harry’s concerning gaze.

“I feel like we should talk about this,” Harry gestures a bit helplessly, “Whatever it is.”

“Harry, it is literally nothing. There is nothing to talk about. Doesn’t your mother have expectations of you, too? You just got a blow job, can’t you just be grateful that I sucked your dick, man? I say one thing about my upbringing and, Jesus, you make it sound like you want to call Dr. Phil for an intervention or something.”

“Or something.”

“You know, ‘m not feeling very well.” He springs off the floor and runs to the bathroom and, slams the door. Harry creeps over to check on him but loud retching and heaving can be heard from across the room.

 

“Are you ok, Hun?” Harry asks after the audible retching stops and he could hear the toilet flush.

“M’fine. Just probably caught whatever disease you have. Serves me right hanging out with a fag like you.”

“Richard….that’s not nice,” Harry responds tersely.  “And you are a fag, too, by the way.” Harry utters under his breath.

“Why don’t you fuck off, then, you fucking pansy.”

“Uhm, just want to make sure you are ok. Can I get you anything?”

“You got your dick sucked, now leave me alone.”

Harry sits by the bathroom door for a few minutes. No sign or sound of activity from behind the door. Clearly a stalemate, an impasse.

“I’ll text you later.”

No response. He waits a few minutes longer and straightens up the living room out of nervous habit. Richard’s house is always immaculate. His dad is paranoid about disorder.

He surveys the room and it is passable without getting out the vacuum and making it extra tidy, so he leaves noiselessly.

On his walk home, Richard’s words haunt him. He really knows so little about his boyfriend’s life other than they moved a lot due to his father’s military service, his mother is dead and he is left alone a lot. _Explains why Richard is kind of a dick._

By the time he arrives home, his belly is cramping and his body craves horizontal time.

“How was your study session, H?”

“Mum, everything is weird and I don’t want to talk about it,” he slumps on to the sofa and buries his head in the blankets voice trailing off.

“I called the counseling service and made an appointment for you.”

Harry groans beneath the blankets.

“It’s actually tomorrow during your lunch break in room 13 in the C building with a man named Louis Tomlinson. He was quite polite and understanding when I explained kind of what was going on….without going into too many details. He emailed me some initial paperwork for you to fill out and bring with tomorrow for your session. I gave him your mobile number so he can text you if there’s a change of plans, etcetera.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he muffed into the pillow.

“I printed out the forms and left them on your desk.” She moves to sit next to him, rubbing his back gently, “I think this can really help you. There seems to be a lot going on in your life and …”

“The people at school will know I’m a weirdo or something seeing a counselor. My rep is ruined,” Harry laments huffing melodramatically into the cushion.

“You know. I mentioned this to him about confidentiality since you are meeting at your school.  He said it is standard to meet at the school for the first visit and then arrangements for future sessions can be made afterward. He said he has access to counseling rooms at the University. You two can figure it out as you go.”

“I don’t know,” says his mouth but his tone says ‘I’m scared’.

“I know this is new for you,” she says as she pats his shoulders and rubs his head beneath the blanket, “But I think it can be helpful. Whatever you are going through is not my expertise. I am out of my depth. Not that you tell me much….but something is affecting your health.  I just want to be your mummy and know that my baby is in the best hands. I love you and dinner will be ready in 20 minutes.”

He texts Richard one last time with him promising to text Harry back after the drive he's on with his dad.

Harry takes some deep breaths, moves the blanket down to his shoulders and passes out. He sleeps through dinner once again.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Harry keeps his head down and tries to avoid anyone he knows as he shuffles as inconspicuously as possible toward Room 13, building C at the appointed time. It was empty. He checked his phone to see if he received a text from his counselor cancelling the meeting. It’s Tuesday, 1215 pm, right location. No texts from Richard either. He’s been out today for some reason. 

Today is shaping up to be odd.  

He sits down in a chair away from the windows, socially shielding himself from any nosy onlookers. Facebook is boring, Instagram, too, so he takes out his notebook and starts doodling.

A few minutes later, a man blusters in carrying a green juice with a messenger bag slung over his slender torso. It was a pretty azure sunset hued hipster bag with a buckle so Harry had a bit of envy right away. His whole outfit looks good in fact. Harry can tell this man has a nice physique beneath the professional attire. Harry takes a breath, thinks of the color orange and wills his mind out of the gutter.

The other man is slightly of breath but quickly composes himself. A hand stretches out to Harry with warm sky blue eyes greeting at the other end, “Hello, I am Louis Tomlinson. Are you waiting for me?”

“Yes, I am,” Harry is a little awestruck and feels awkward in his presence. He drops his gaze and slumps even further in his seat, piss poor posture on display. He presses his hands firmly in his lap out of habit, as a teenager, those boners pop when they darn well please.

“Ok, Harry, right?” Louis queried with a kind measured tone.

“Yes. Doctor Tomlinson?” Harry forces himself to lift his head and smile politely.

Louis smiles and nods, “Harry, thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I spoke with your mother yesterday on the phone and she filled me in with some basics. Can you tell me a bit more about what is going on with you? Oh, and did you remember your paperwork?”

He hands the forms to Louis who scans them carefully and sets them aside. His eyes seek to meet Harry’s who is sitting there silently, arms crossed, visibly uncomfortable.

Louis takes in Harry’s face and a sensation of ease settles in his body unexpectedly. He scrunches his face and gives the young man before him a quirky look-over.“You look so familiar to me. I’m trying to place where I might know you from.”

He studies Harry for a few more seconds and notices his body language becoming a bit guarded. He shakes his head and continues, “Your mum mentioned that there may be some stressors in your life that… that… that you would benefit from some therapy to help with…. to help you manage them?” he bumbles out. His words dumping out with the coherence of words formed from magnetic letters swiped off the fridge on to the floor by an angry toddler.

Harry attempts to school his expression to one of indifference. “I have no idea what counseling would do for me. Sorry, I am new to all of this stuff,” he looks down quickly and feels a flush come up on his cheeks. It doesn’t help that his counselor is fucking gorgeous. “I don’t think I am crazy or anything, Doctor Tomlinson.”

He likes the way Doctor Tomlinson slides from his lips and tongue; it could be considered a euphonically beautiful term like cellar door.

“Crazy. I don’t like that word per se. People with mental illness find that word offensive and it is often tossed around carelessly kind of like the word ‘lame’ is offensive for people with physical mobility challenges,” he sighs, already on a tangent, with a new client. _Sheesh, pull it together, Lou._ “Nevertheless, I see what you mean. And, yes, you are right. Forgive me. I should have explained myself better. I am a bit flustered from getting lost and running late. It is not like me at all, so you don’t have to worry about that for future sessions hopefully. And why don’t the room numbers run in order and why are the building letters so hard to read? I feel like I’m living in a Kafka novel. It’s pure madness here,” Louis laughs infusing some humour to the flat conversation.

“You’re right about that. It took me a few semesters to figure it out, but now I am a pro if you need a tour or anything, Doctor Tomlinson,” he motions with his two thumbs like he’s the man for the job.

“I don’t think that will be necessary but good to keep in mind. Quite considerate of you, Harry. I appreciate you looking out for me so I don’t end up in a mop closet.”

“Hey, no closet jokes around here,” he huffs in fake indignation crossing his arms over his chest and pouting his lips for extra effect.

“Riiiight. About that….”

Harry looks up and their eyes meet. There’s something new yet familiar there and he finds himself at ease. Louis holds the gaze for a few moments longer until he is reminded of the task at hand and shakes his head and his eyes appear to re-focus. “So, your mum mentioned that you just came out to her yesterday at the doctor’s office,” Harry nods affirmatively. “What was that like?”

“We were talking about this actually. Which I still don’t know anything about, so….”

“Ok, yes, sorry. I am not sure what has come over me today. Maybe too many vitamins in this green smoothie and it's making my brain fuzzy."  _Or lack of sleep due to one such skin flick,_ he thinks and hopes that his x-rated thoughts do not become evident through the desperate want on his face. He laughs easily but then proceeds in a more professional tone, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since talking with your mum as you sound like you have a very interesting case.”

“Case?” Harry asks flatly. His right eyebrow hitches up and he looks unimpressed.

“Sorry, gosh. Let me start over from the beginning like I should have done 10 minutes ago,” he puts out his knuckles for Harry to bro-tap in affirmation. Harry knocks his knuckles and the reset is complete.

“Hello Harry. I am Louis Tomlinson. I’m a graduate student in the University of Manchester’s psychology program. I am a doctoral candidate, so not quite a proper doctor yet, but thanks for that,” and he winks to Harry who stares ahead openly fascinated with him. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. My research focus is in psychology, particularly with adolescents. Your school and my university have a partnership to provide counseling to students who may need it. It is free of charge to you. The trade-off is that as graduate students we need to gather data for our research projects, as well as clinical experience, so...” Harry looks perplexed like he doesn’t know what he is agreeing to. “Oh, don’t worry. I have quite a lot of clinical experience. You are not part of some experiment. You are not going to be filmed or your virtue compromised in any way.”

“So are you like a new doctor or like, umm, like a fully grown doctor?” awkward words floating like bubbles from Harry's mouth. 

Louis cocks his head and scrunches up his face earnestly. “Well, I’ve never thought of it quite that way. But I think you are asking about my experience? And whether you are in good hands? Not to brag, but I completed undergraduate studies in three years with high marks and have been in graduate school for five. I teach three undergrad classes, attend five graduate lectures each week and manage about fifteen cases comprised primarily of adolescents.  I am nine months from completing my doctorate studies and sitting for my license.”

“You are really motivated,” Harry remarks quite impressed, pushing his bottom lip out a tad which does not go unnoticed by his counselor who seems to have a firm fixation on Harry’s face.

His eyes take in Harry’s face and it distracts him, “I have certain goals I am eager to achieve.” He smiles warmly and his eyes light up as they land on Harry's plush pink lips.

Harry waits for Louis to reestablish eye contact but it seems he's distracted by something. He purses his lips while looking directly in Louis' bright azure eyes. “So, are you an all work and no fun kind of guy, Doctor Tomlinson?” he lobs out there no harm flirting a tiny bit since the vibe is right.

“No,” he responds sharply and scoots himself further back on the desktop he's sitting on. His back is a touch on the rigid side.

“Seems like you are working a lot. I mean, that doesn’t sound healthy. I mean, how can I take advice from a doctor who--” Harry remarks a bit defensively with a hint of effacement from miscalculating the other man’s tone.

Louis cuts him off. Obviously he is being called out and it is making him defensive, “Harry, that is a very fair question. I assure you I do have fun and live as balanced a life as I can right now.”

“What do you do for fun?” Harry has him off-balance and decides to play with him a bit.

“Well, I usually don’t talk much about myself during these sessions. In fact, we are trained not to do it, but I will indulge you as you are clearly inquisitive, sharp-minded and you deserve to know who you are dealing with particularly since counseling can be intimate and requires mutual trust.”

“This could be the beginning of something beautiful,” Harry remarks wistfully, placing both hands on his heart and clearly being a cheeky wisecracker.  

Louis laughs easily, “If we can continue?” tilting his head as if he is on the verge of a faux attitude problem.

Harry nods in assent.

“My job is to--”

Harry jumps in, “Wait, hold your horses, Doctor T.”

 _I want to hold your hair,_ Louis muses.

Harry finger-combs his thick curly hair out of his face and locks eyes with his counselor, “You were going to tell me what you do for fun. How else can I tell if this is a good match?  Informed consent is important in any agreement, activity, or relationship.”

Louis levels a look of flirty incredulity and responds in kind, “Where did you learn to talk like that? I need to have a word with your mum. Is your dad a lawyer or summat?”

“No, but that is my goal. Answer the question, please, before I lose faith in the process,” he says tapping his fingers on the desk and sending a challenging look to Louis who is batting his long eyelashes dramatically.

“You are too much. You know that, Harry?” Louis smiles and sweeps the fringe out of his eyes mirroring Harry moments before.

“I’ve heard that before,” he responds quickly, tone cock-thick with innuendo.

“Since you are so insistent. I teach yoga and do other things you might call new-agey.”

“Ok, that’s very acceptable,” he says smiling up at him.  “Inspiring even.”

“Well, thank you for your approval,” Louis quips with a wink.

“I thought yoga was mostly for women and old spiritual people." He moistens his lips with his tongue, and continues with a waft of seduction in his voice, "Is that something I should do?”

Louis suppresses his indulgent desires and responds with measured professionalism, “There are a lot of women in the classes, that’s true. Lot of preggies.  There’s a steady growing number of men as well. Yoga is for everyone. Yoga means union or yoke in Sanskrit.  It is all about uniting man-physical with man-spiritual. I mean, who wouldn’t want some of that?”

“Oh, I could definitely go for a double scoop of that,” he licks his lips a bit and bites down on the plump bottom one.

Louis clearly notices the other man's lips and takes a breath to refocus. He scoots back on the desk becoming aware of how his body is leaning toward Harry. “Well, when you have time, you may want to look into it. There’s a lovely beginners class at Essence Yoga Wednesday nights. Everyone there is nice, too. You won’t feel weird. It’s a healing center, at the heart of it.”

“Oh, are there doctors there? Harry queries with a full-dimpled smile.

“No, no doctors…”

“Only you?” His eyes open wide and focus on Louis' eyes before drifting to his lips.

 _Did he just bat those lashes at me?_ “You know, you are pretty bright for a young lad.” Louis fidgets a bit to shake off the intensity of Harry's stare.

Harry smiles knowingly at him.

“If we can continue?”

Harry regally bows his head in assent.

“My job here with you is to help lead you through the obstacles that can be triggering or tripping points and give you tools that enable you to make informed choices. During adolescence hormones are an issue for many people, particularly those who are trying to care for you like your mum or your partner. My goal is for you to safely discover deep truths about yourself so you can have tools for coping through tough times and for you become a happy, healthy man with a fulfilling life. A lot of that self-discovery starts now and it can be a bit rocky, which is why your doctor recommended some counseling. Your doctor does not think you are unable to handle yourself as you are growing and changing but that it’s easier not to go through the caverns and forests of early adulthood and such alone.”

Emboldened and stimulated by his counselor's charm and intelligence, Harry blinks a few times, “So, you are here to hold my hand?” He wants to disappear as soon as he utters those words. His brain is playing tricks on his tongue.

Louis giggled. “Sort of, yes. But in an empowering, supportive way like a trusted advisor and not, like, in a parental way? If that makes sense.”

“Ok. So, what do we do then?”

“Great question. You are really astute. You know that, Harry?”

Harry can feel himself preen under the compliment but doesn't try too hard not to let it show.

Louis smiles softly at seeing light up and continues, “I can tell you are highly intelligent and people like you, are frankly, my favourite types…to work with.” Louis looks away toward the wall, feeling exposed and bashful. “You are very powerful, too, I can see it in your eyes,” Louis sighs, unable to keep his thoughts to himself. He continues, “We start by getting to know each other a bit better…” _Fuck, Lou, it’s not a date!_ “And by that,” he redirects himself, “I mean you tell me what is going on in your life. Some struggles you may be having and we can talk it through so you feel more comfortable.”

“What if I like being uncomfortable?” Harry blurts out.

“Very astute. You're just so on it.”

“I mean, isn’t that part of life?”

“It is. You are right about that. Let me ask you, are you out at school?”

“Only to a few people. I’m not ready to make an announcement and I don’t think I look too gay to the point where it is obvious.”

“You don’t strike me as being too flamboyant, if there is such a thing. That’s true. You do strike me as someone who is sensitive. I’m not saying you need to have thicker skin. Being sensitive is a beautiful trait. Being a sensitive man can be a bit confusing in this day and age. What I’m saying, Harry, is that counseling is available—I am here—so you don’t have to navigate things alone.”

Harry nods and gives Louis a smile, "So, I'm the ship and you're the compass leading me home?

"Yes, Harry. Home."  _Godddd, I want to kiss you._

“Thanks, man,” Harry catches himself and looks up meeting Louis’ sweet blues and demurs, “I mean, Doctor Tomlinson,” he says smiling and then involuntarily shivers as a flux of energy zapped right to his cock.

Louis gathers himself against the nagging demands from his libido, addressing Harry like the professional he knows he can be, “Your mother did mention that you’ve been seeing a number of specialists for a mysterious health condition. Do you care to tell me about that?”

“I don’t know too much really” he shrugs. “All of the tests have been pretty normal. I go for another one on Thursday because the doc said they saw something suspicious and wanted to make sure nothing was wrong with my intestines,” he looks up to see Louis actively listening and nodding along. “I’ve been gaining weight even though everything has been making me sick. I throw up a lot and most things smell disgusting.” He makes a face like he is completely grossed out and embarrassed.

Louis raises his hands and puts them to his mouth, “Oh, I hope I am not offending your nose with my sweaty-ness? It’s quite hot today!” he says wiping his brow and flicking the fake sweat to the side.

“Uh, no, you’re fine,” Harry spurts out between giggles. “I didn’t notice anything too offensive….coming from your body.” He feels a laugh building deep in his belly.

“Oh, but I see I’ve offended you in some other way, then?” Louis pokes back. “Is it my hair?” he says pointing to his messy brown coif and fringy bangs that keep sliding across his forehead and threatening to cover his eyes.

Harry shakes his head.

“Oh, then is it my hipster bag? I saw you eyeing it when I came in. If you play your cards right…” he wiggles his index fingers at Harry like they were drumsticks,  _you might get it. I wanna give it all to you._

“No, no not that,” Harry sputters out clutching his sides suppressing a laugh that keeps threatening to break loose.

“Hmm, let’s see. It’s not my clothes because these are quite fashionable for a graduate student. And I still have all my teeth….” Louis smiles Cheshire cat style at him.

Harry looks away, and is full on clutching his sides cracking up, eyes shut, dimples on full display.

Louis goads on, “It must be my tongue then. Has a curse word slipped through these lips?” Louis proudly remarks, tapping his puckered kisser.

Harry’s face openly gazes at him clearly taking in the unintended meaning behind Louis’ words and actions.

Louis focuses on Harry's face practically watching Harry’s brain work. It is quite fascinating and smiles at the younger man to communicate as much affection as he could without being blatantly unprofessional.

Harry takes a breath to compose himself and find his own tongue as in his mind it is slipping through the good doctor’s lips, courtesy of his active imagination. Cheeky banter, he can do this. “That’s it. I hope you don’t hold it against me,” Harry says slowly, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Louis quietly interjected.

“I have sensitive, virgin ears and I am very impressionable….and hormonally unbalanced. Isn’t that what you were saying, Doctor Tomlinson?” Harry drawls out, twirling and twisting his curly locks suggestively.

Louis’ breath stills and his visage shifts like he is experiencing a head rush or a déjà vu.

“Oh Harry. Oh, young, hormonal Harry,” he states with an easy smile, placing his hands on his hips, fingers squeezing the dips. He exhales, “You have so much to learn.”

“What else do you want to know about me?” Harry said slowly, eyes locked with Louis transmitting the real goods.

 _EVERYTHING!_ “Enlighten me, Harry. What else would you like to tell me?” Louis gives him his full attention.

“Well, I just learned that I think my friend was molested by his father? I think. He won’t say much but it is just a suspicion based on some events.”

“Care to elaborate?” Louis responds with concern and leans towards Harry.

“Oh, gosh. I’m not sure I want to talk about it,” he says shyly.

“Ok, well when you are ready. I am here for you,” Louis assured

“Ok, it was quite disturbing.”

“Sexual abuse can, and usually does, deeply affect the psyche of the person involved. Often it is done by a family member or some other trusted person like a coach,” Louis explains.

“Makes sense,” Harry says pensively.

“Before we keep going, I have to disclose that you have complete confidentiality in here. What you say in here stays in here. Whatever you say to me you can trust me to keep. However, I am required by law to report any credible suspicions of child abuse, so please keep that in mind. I want you to know where some legal boundaries are before you disclose anything sensitive.”

“I understand,” Harry says solemnly.

“If you understand now, or you think that you do, but find that you are confused later, let’s talk about it,” Louis says earnestly. He adds, “I also am required to report if you are involved in some sort of criminal behaviour…” he winks at Harry. “I keep some cuffs in my hipster bag just in case I need to…”

Harry shivers and a smile peeks through, “Thanks Doc. I appreciate you telling me my rights...”

“No problem, Harry. Is there anything else on your mind before we close out for today?”

“I’d like to know—" he starts then he thoroughly rakes his eyes over every part of Louis’ upper torso, “—how long do people stay in counseling? Is this a lifetime thing or something just during times of trouble, like a bridge over troubled waters?”

“I love the Beatles and Paul Simon.”

“Me, too”

“Geniuses. You have good taste, Harry,” he appraises from his perch on the desk. A little smile peeks through and he wants to wrap this sexy teen in his arms and protect him from any and all harms.  His mind drifts and snaps back, “The honest answer to your excellent question is that it varies based on the person and the issues at hand. We can play it by ear if that makes you comfortable.”

“I don’t understand that expression. Does it mean that we memorize parts of each other?” Harry asks quizzically.

“I can see how that expression is confusing. I mean we can take it one step at a time and I will give you a more detailed care plan next time we meet that we can alter based on things happening in your life.” Harry nods. “Does that sound reasonable?”

“Quite.”

“Anything else, Harry?”

“I think you are an auditory learner.”

“Quite sharp, Harry. Indeed, I am. I am also a kinesthetic learner which is why I do yoga and incorporate exercise when I am trying to integrate information.”  

“You’re learning while you are doing or teaching yoga?” Harry asks earnestly, while clearly imagining what Louis would look like in action if the sparks in his eyes can be trusted.

“Teaching and always learning. That’s what life’s about, right?” he quickly redirects the conversation, preserving what’s left of any professional boundaries. “So, next week, we can meet here, at my office downtown or at the University. Or if you are a kinesthetic processor, too, sometimes it is helpful to walk and talk.” He pauses waiting for some acknowledgment, “Any ideas what you prefer?”

“Can I let you know next week? A walk sounds nice though.”

 _I was afraid you’d say that._ “Sounds good, ha you caught me! I have your mobile number. Is it ok to text you early next week to set it up?”

“Sure.”

“I try to respond to any communication within 24 hours or faster usually and appreciate if you do the same, however for the next few days, starting Friday afternoon, I will likely be in a place without reception. You know, in case you text or call, I wouldn’t want you to feel ignored or uncared for if I don’t get back to you until Monday.”

Louis turns to pack up his belongings. “Well, this has been interesting.”

Harry seems to be waiting for permission to be dismissed.

“Good work today. You know, I think you have a good grip on things but here’s my number just in case you need to talk before then. With tests coming up and all.”

Harry’s phone peeps with word “Hi” and a hair brush emoji.

He pockets his mobile and bro-taps Louis’ waiting knuckles on the way out.

He stands at the doorway. “Thank you for your time, Doctor Tomlinson.”

“My pleasure, truly. Cheers!” Louis nods, smiles and holds his breath until Harry must surely be down the corridor.

“Ooooh, fuuuhhck me, that boy is kryptonite,” he blurts then slaps his hands over his mouth, squeezing his eyes closed.

He surprised himself by uttering it out loud and boldly like a release from deep in his soul, particularly the place where his kundalini and neglected penis call home. Not his intention to do so.

He checks in with himself. His root chakra is open and glowing. Sacral chakra, flowing like a river. Solar plexus flagging a bit. Not a surprise given his lack of self-control. He’s human and Harry is just lovely and intelligent. Moving up, heart chakra is humming along. Throat chakra, sputtering not much of a surprise. Third eye, open and spinning. Crown, warm.

 

He packs up and makes his way out of that maze of a school.

A few minutes later, he receives a blue heart and superman emoji from Harry.

_Fuck!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember Zain is gender fluid.

“Wait,” Zain holds up her manicured hands, bracelets dangling on her wrists. “You’re going way too fast,” she takes a long drag of her cigarette and blows it out slowly indicating Louis’ pace should proceed thusly. “Start at the beginning. Or what you think is the beginning.”

Naturally, Louis starts at the end. “I said something like he’s ‘my kryptonite’ out loud, out fucking loud and like loud loud loud and he texts me back with a Superman emoji and a heart,” Louis explains with a manic panic brimming in his voice. He puts his hands to his eyes, slumping his head forward, embarrassed. “He fucking heard me, Z. Why else would he do that? I am so unprofessional. I should transfer him to someone else. I can't even face him. I can't.  God, he’s so fit, too. I just can’t….” He sighs, a pained expression deepens his wrinkles. “I just couldn't keep it together. I was so giddy and making jokes. He made some, too. We were laughing. We were laughing out loud. Like full belly laughs. You should hear him, Z. He has the deepest voice and the goofiest laugh. You'd die instantly-fucking instantly, like charmed to death."

Some nosy people passed them on their walking path and reminded Louis that he might not want to announce his professional and personal problems to the public.

He took a deep cleansing breath and  when no one was in ear-shot he continued dramatically, "I wiped a tear, no--tears plural from my eyes. Tears. Not doctorly. Unprofesh. And he has the sweetest curly hair and nature baby green eyes and dimples. Dimples you can hide Easter eggs in.”

Zain interjects, “Yeah, you want to hide your Easter eggs in them, I bet," reaching down to gently squeeze her best friend's bulge, "See if you can get the bunny to nibble on your carrot.” A wave of laughter sweeps her up and she points her fingers knowingly at Louis, nodding her head.

He waves her off, “And he’s a good person. And fucking gorgeous, like otherworldly hot. I mean I wouldn't do it but, does it make me a bad person to admit that I just wanted to awww fuck I don't know....?"  _Kiss him. Suck him. FUCK him._ He reaches in his pants to readjust his awakening cock.  

Louis licks his lips reminiscing, "God! And smart. And cheeky! I think he was flirting with me. 99 percent sure. The connection was beyond flirting. It was intense, yet kind of safe. I mean, he’s 17. A teenager, Z! It was just, uhhhhh. I got there late and was a mess and just couldn’t pull it together. Was like reuniting with a loved one I've been waiting years for. He’s just so dreamy, like from my dreams. _Fantasies...._ I conjured him or summat.”

“What was your best joke?” Zain questioned after a pause allowing Louis to catch his breath and allow his wild eyes to refocus.

He scrunches his face, leans to the right and winks, “I think I said I still had all my teeth?”

“That’s not even remotely funny on this or any other planets; this lifetime, past, present or future.”

“It was at the time,” Louis retorted while nodding his head, defending his humour.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said as she removed a pebble from her heel and chucked it in the lake. They stood on the bridge watching it sail below and strike the lake’s surface disturbing the calm with no remorse.

“Do you see that, Z? One little pebble in a shoe when tossed in a lake makes increasingly larger circles.”

“I understand the concept of concentric circles and cause and effect. What's your point?”

Louis shrugs. Instead of explaining, he takes the opportunity to kick a rock and let out a pent-up fart at the same time.

“Charming. I bet the little cherub couldn’t resist the Tommo charm.”

“I think I was charmed by him,” he said emphasizing the ‘I’ and ‘him’ like he was a detective putting together the elusive clues of a mystery. “He kept calling me Doctor Tomlinson and I swear I could feel my dick chubb up.”

“I’ve experienced that.”

“Really? When?” Louis said quickly unaware that he was leaning in closer in anticipation of her answer.

“I’ve come across some nude photos that were originally used for primarily artistic purposes and one thing led to another. It’s human nature.”

Not that it is any of his business, but, “Who were these photos of?” Louis asks with genuine curiosity, voice trailing up.

“Myself. Of course. Who else?” she cackles a la Cruella DeVille exposing the column of her beautiful neck. Long black hair wavy hair bobbing as she laughs.

She is such a gorgeous sight. Even as a gay, very gay, man Louis can appreciate true beauty beyond the depth of the skin. It’s the full package that makes her so attractive. It also helps that Louis has seen her naked on several occasions and can attest that she is packing heat between her legs. Lord have mercy on whomever she decides to unleash that beast on.

“As both versions of yourself? Or do you find one sexier?”

Zain feigned mock offense, “It depends on my mood and the context. And to answer your question, Doctor Tomlinson, all versions of me are sexy. Don’t apply that binary bullshit to me. I’m beyond that. Your cis-ness with your bis-ness. I’m keeping it real,” fingers triple snapping in a Z.

“Right. I have much to learn from you, sensei,” and bows to Zain. “Or sensei-na?” he laughs and bows again.

“So, what’s the problem, exactly, with your little cherub?”

“You know I can’t discuss confidential stuff, HIPAA and all that shit,” he says with an air of professionalism and an awareness that he preaching to the choir.

“Well, no shit. I’m literally four months closer to graduating with my doctorate than you, so save the ethics speech, you pedantic prat,” she says while playfully pushing Louis’ shoulder disciplining him as an older sister would do to put a rugrat brother into place. “I am not asking about his personal issues. Jesus, Lou. I’m talking about you. Sheesh. What is your issue with him?”

Louis stops walking and is clearly stalling, “Well, it’s complicated.” He takes off his glasses and wipes them on his shirt.

“No, it is not. You are making it complicated. Just tell me what it is.”

“Ok. Berndt,” he pauses to collect his thoughts, scratches his nose and continues, “What I didn’t tell you last time was when I snooped on his laptop’s history, I could see what he was searching for.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the purpose of the history feature. Cool story, bro,” she laughs and settles in more closely to his side providing physical support for what must be an upcoming personal story, all snark aside.

“Smartarse. Anywaaze, I could see he was looking up information on German citizenship for children born to German parents on foreign soil.”

“So? Are you pregnant or are you becoming more and more full of shit?” she pats his lil paunchy belly and laughs like she gives no fucks in the world.

“Ok, well, I took it as a sign that he was making plans for our future. We used to talk about it all the time. We put away money for that stuff. I have a whole collection of cute rompers and stuff. I’ve probably never mentioned…..”

“Bullshit. I’ve even seen some of the stuff a few times. You get so clucky when you are drunk. Remember that one time Berndt lent that dog your—”

“Of course, god, I am still pissed about that. I had to replace it. Never mention it to me again,” Louis clips, crossing his arms in a defensive posture.

“Dude, I thought you were going to cut his balls off,” she makes a grip and violent machete swipe motion with an accompanying Swiiiiiish!

“Don’t give me any ideas,” he shakes the visual out of his head, “Anyway, that stuff is kind of sacred to me…..and…”

“Dude, things that are sacred are laced with fear about losing them. It’s just stuff. You don’t technically own it in the energetic sense. It’s all shades of oneness. Just let it go to its intended home. Just like people. You don’t own them no matter what your title and relationship status is. It’s just energy. It’s healthy to look at that stuff as being transient. Practice non-attachment. Appreciate it while it’s here. Love it when it leaves you for new surroundings. There’s power in surrendering. More so than holding tight to a bunch of items be they physical, emotional, spiritual, etcetera that just don’t belong to you. Love yourself even more for seeing the bigger picture of that stuff, no matter what it is, is not that important.”

“Not that important.”

“Give that shit wings, man. The universe provides.”

“The dude abides,” Louis stoically affirms while kicking every stone that crosses his path.

They keep walking as the sun is starting to set. It must have been an hour and a half since they met up and they spent most of it talking about his new client, Harry. He is truly dumbstruck and wishes he were bumfucked by said cherub.

“Listen, man, I gotta go. When I see you again I want to hear about what’s changed with you to allow this cherub in your life. That’s the interesting part. I’m interested in the shift, not the shit.  Ya heard?”

“Real quick, though, you think him on the yoga retreat page is a positive sign?”

“Is he going?”

“Not sure.”

“Yes you are. Don’t lie to yourself. You’re too pure for that Lou.”

“And the jewelry website?” he asks nibbling his lips, looking stressed, doubt clouding the shine in his eyes.

She scoffs and levels an intense are-you-fuckin-kidding-me look straight through his soul, “Listen, man, no offense, this Berndt crap is played out and boring. I can’t believe you’re straining your brain cells on it. You’re too pure to be mucking horseshit for fun. And you’re too cute to be wasting your time collecting wounds.”

“Eight years, Z,” says Louis wistfully.

“Let it go, man. There’s no benefit trying to capture something just to put it in a box, so you can pick it apart because you’re curious about the world?  Find another interest. It doesn’t make you safer or less vulnerable. No offense, but domesticity dampens the soul a bit, at least how I see it played out. You trade your instincts and curiosity for comfort and familiarity. Set your sights higher. Surrender, man. Be the being your highest self sees you as.”

She pats him on the back, bringing him into to a hug. “I’m grateful for you, LouLou, you make my life seem fantastically simple.”

The buzzing in Louis’ trousers makes him step away.  “Thursday evening? Kind of a funny time to be calling,” he remarks as he fishes his mobile from his trousers. His eyes get big and he feels temporarily suspended in ether. His breath hitches, diaphragm temporarily frozen. He shows the display to Zain with eyes wide open, busted.

“Speak of the cherub,” Zain blows him a kiss and turns sharply on her heel.

“Hi Harry, how are you?” he greets cordially trying to mask that he spent the last two hours gushing about this sweet boy and the effect his sugar is having on Louis’ ability to function. He’s heard of a sex coma but this is re-dick-a-less.

He hears sobbing on the other end of the call and can practically hear snot dripping down Harry’s kind face followed by a loud sniff snorting it back up.  Heavy breathing, sobbing, sniffing, but no words.

He waits for Harry to gain composure. “I’m here Harry,” he says softly hoping his words extend the same warmth that a hug would.

A few beats pass. “Harry, are you ok? Ok, stupid question. What’s wrong? I’m here when you can let me know, ok?” The sobbing continues with moans and he’s pretty sure Harry is going to say that his family has been murdered by clowns. “M’ not going anywhere.”

“Need to talk, Lou,” Harry's voice finally breaks through the wracking sobs.

“I’m here Harry.”

No answer.

“I need a walk and talk,” Harry responds softly, the slight hint of hope in his voice.

“Ok, now?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out and snuffles more snot.

Louis can practically feel the stress release slightly from Harry's throat.

“Ok. I’m at the lake near the boats. The gazebo? Do you know where that is?”

“Uhmhmm”

“Harry, it’s getting quite chilly out here so you may want to bring some layers,” care and concern coming through strong and clear for this boy.

“I’ll be there in 10. And, thanks Lou.”

“No problem, Harry. See you soon.”

Louis shivers a bit as the sun starts to set slowly on the horizon. He sends off a quick text to Berndt letting him know that he’ll probably be home later than expected and not to hold up dinner on his behalf, though he doesn't miss him, truth be told. He misses their connection and looking forward to spending time together, but he doesn’t miss him or what they’ve become. That ship has sailed, sadly. Berndt responds back that he’s having drinks with the guys from the department and will probably kip at one of their places.

_Another lonely night for the books, then. No need to hurry home. At least my toys haven’t abandoned me and after seeing Harry, bet I’ll be two fingers ready._


	8. Chapter 8

Harry arrives nine minutes later, a spring in his gangly steps.

Louis fixes his eyes squinting in Harry's direction watching him walk toward him with his hands full. He’s clutching two travel mugs in one hand, and an unprofessional image appears in Louis' mind of what Harry was capable of with those two hands. _Have mercy on me, you sexy sexy young thing you._   His eyes focus on Harry's long legs and a bit of a swish in his step as the younger man approaches, his features becoming more defined in the twilight. He and Harry lock eyes and his heart skips a beat and he steels himself for what he knows will be a challenging session. Challenging for him, that is. 

Harry offers his counselor a soft smile as he approaches. His eyes clearly wrecked red from crying so hard. His curls are mussed up and he looks like he’s had one hell of a rough day if the chew marks on his lips are any indicator. “Thanks for meeting me,” his voice soft and he bows his head appreciatively.

“Well, was quite easy. I was already here on a walk and talk of my own,” Louis says lightly, a touch of levity in his voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry if I disturbed anything. I know you manage a lot of cases,” Harry replies though Louis waves him off like it’s no disturbance whatsoever. “I did bring you these in case you were hungry.” Harry puts a warm paper plate into Louis' hands with a gentle smile.

Louis accepts the plate with sincere thanks, a quirky smile and eyes that drift off to a happy happy place where he can interact with Harry more casually and without professional or personal conflicts. Louis is convinced that Harry is some kind of Heaven and he instinctively and intuitively wants more more more like his life depended on it. He's only met the boy once but that was enough to get his curiosity going and his imagination whips his thoughts into an obsession that he is not proud of.  Throughout the day and certainly when he's in bed, he fantasizes about the two of them in a setting like his favorite adult movie: bath tubs, beautiful meals, passionate kissing, blow jobs and belly laughs. He imagines what Harry would taste like on his tongue and held against his body. These graphic thoughts have almost become second nature to him. 

A wave of guilt shifts his focus back to present-day Harry, his patient, who called him for help.

He smells the aroma of some fresh pastries wafting up and it might be his most favourite smell in the world. He opens the aluminum foil to see an assortment of goodies: some kind of scone, a row of nutty biscuits, a croissant and 5 chocolate dipped strawberries. Under other circumstances, this might pass for date food. He imagines Harry tipping the strawberries in his mouth, biting it as the juice leaked from the corners. _Boundaries, Tommo._ The Pavlovian part of him that loves to be cared for is salivating, actively. _Daddy, daddy cool. More like daddy daddy drool._

“When did you have time to…?” his eyes drift back to that happy place.

Harry’s intense eyes on him snap him out of his reverie. “I stress-bake.  Everything is fresh except the croissant which I baked yesterday. Also, I don’t know how you take your tea but this one has milk and this one has milk and sugar,” he says presenting the blue and then the green mugs toward Louis kindly.

“That is quite kind of you to think of me and my tea needs, Harry, particularly in your state. Do you have a preference?”

“I do. Do you?” he answered with a light in his eye transmitting warmth and connection directly to his counselor. His heart swells being near Louis and he wants him to know that he thinks Doctor Tomlinson is special without crossing the line. He only wants to draw him in and not push him away.

Harry enjoyed a nice long wank earlier in the day imagining the other man's lips on his and getting his hands on Louis' big bum. He came imagining himself on his knees taking Louis all the way down treating him like a gentleman, of course, while swallowing that salty nectar. He's grateful he honored himself in that way and is better prepared to control his teenage urges. It also helped to reduce the tremendous stress he is under at the moment. He refocuses his eyes and gives Louis a nod and a warm smile. 

 _Was that a wink?_ “I mean show me an Englishman who is not particular about his tea and I’ll show you a three-headed toad.” Almost on cue, Harry guffaws like Louis has tickled every funny bone in his body, _with my tongue_ Louis imagines. When Harry has regained his breath and his cackling subsides, Louis asks, “Ok, then, which one would you like?”

“You choose first,” Harry insists presenting both mugs to him as an offering.

“Charming,”— _Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud—,_ “Oops, I meant to say, you are quite thoughtful, but if you are going to make me choose, then I prefer the one without sugar.”

Harry handed him the blue mug with a lopsided dimpled grin, “I figured. You’re sweet enough.”

“Thank you,” he says as he brings the mug to his lips, steam fogging up his glasses completely which predictably prompted Harry to giggle when he gave him a big wide smile behind clouded specs. He felt himself swoon a bit under the heat behind Harry’s gaze even though he could not see him, he could feel Harry’s intensity light up his body like standing in front of a human heat lamp. There he was, Mr. Heavenly Body orbiting while he’s still holding a plate of what appear to be delicious homemade baked goods and a mug of tea that after the first sipper seems to be just the way he likes it delivered by Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome himself. Harry called him crying hysterically 20 minutes ago, but at the moment, from a self-interested standpoint, life is good.

“Would you like this jumper, too? It’s a little small on me and I thought it would go good with your….” he hands Louis the royal blue cashmere jumper and Louis gives it a quick sniff before putting it on.

“It’s clean. I think. Well, I might’ve worn it a few times since it was last dry cleaned.”

“It’s ok, Harry, I don’t have a sensitive nose or anything and I kind of like the way bodies smell.” _Fuck, did I just say that out loud? No filter, Lou. #nofilter._

Harry smirks at him like the comment went straight from his heart to his dick or maybe from his dick to his heart. In a few seconds, his face morphed from vividly considering bending Louis over to genuinely pensive. He licks his lips and juts his hips to the right.  “Do you believe that you can tell if you like someone by their scent?” he queries, lifting his eyes to meet Louis’.

“Perhaps. We evolved from creatures that depended heavily on the sense of smell to tell them if there was danger or not. So, probably,” he assures and fixes his glasses to focus on Harry. “Why?”

“I’m kind of suspicious when people wear, like, too many fragrances.” A little urp rose up through his belly, “Seems like they are trying to hide something.”

“Perhaps.”

“Did you learn in school about theories of trust?” Harry’s question floating in the air between them.

He pauses, a bit perplexed by this question, “Not really theories of trust, per se. That’s a good question, though. We do talk a lot about attachment and ways to assess levels of attachment between people. Usually between the caregiver and the baby and the way the baby responds to a new situation when the caregiver is unexpectedly absent. If the baby looks for the caregiver when placed in a new environment, is upset at the absence of and is comforted by the return of the caregiver, then we can say that there is a healthy degree of attachment between the baby and the caregiver. The baby starts to trust that the caregiver will provide comfort and protect him or her from harm. That is a real primitive explanation of how trust can develop.”

“If you feel safe with someone?” he asks looking through Louis with a fireside, cuddly warmth underlying his voice.

“That’s one part. It is pretty widely accepted that trust is the foundation of any meaningful relationship. You don’t have to have trust if you don’t want a meaningful relationship. People can choose to have fun, or not, and engage with another person with varying levels of investment. There’s an infinite number of ways to go about relating to people.” Louis looks out at the horizon, the sun pancaking at the edge of the lake. “And thank goodness, because it keeps people like me in business,” he adds lightly in spite of the fact that he’s had one total relationship and very little sheet-to-street cred.

“So does that mean that you first learn the concept of trust through interactions with someone else?”

“With babies for sure.”

“Because they’re unable to protect themselves,” Harry looks like he would protect every baby in the world. SuperHarry.

“Yes, and they’re neurologically not-intact enough to do anything about it to defend themselves with their bodies except cry.”

“I see,” Harry mutters quietly and then shifts his gaze to Louis.

“And there’s lots of crying. I have younger siblings, so I know crying,” Louis adds with a measure of confidence that’s hard-earned.

“I think even adults learn about trust through interacting with other people,” Harry’s voice trails up and his eyes soften as they take in Louis’ face.

“Certainly.”

“But babies are a special case.”

“Quite,” Louis softly affirms.

“That’s where trust starts. With love at home,” Harry intones like his words are a promise.

Louis nods.

“Lou, are there any studies about whether dads are able to love a baby as much as a mum?”

“You’re full of interesting questions tonight,” he looks Harry in the eye, giving him a gentle smile. Harry faces Louis and waits for a response, eyes training his face like he’s waiting to a shooting star to cast over Louis’ forehead.

“Babies are adaptable. That’s the name of the game. With nature, you adapt or you die.”

Harry makes a noise that Louis can’t decipher whether it is meaningful speech or not. He waits for Harry to qualify it, but he doesn’t.

“To answer your very interesting question, Harry, I would imagine that babies raised with love, attention and an enriched environment with stable caregivers –or caregiver—would stand to be well-adapted adults. If you wanted something more specific, with data and analysis, I’d have to go on PubMed, do a search and get back to you.”

They stand in companionable silence, jumpers on, nursing their teas and watching the ducks on the lake. It’s getting dark.

“This reminds me of a Sandra Boynton book I’ve read about a zillion times to my siblings.  It’s about animals on a boat. Do you want to hear it?” Louis asks and Harry nods with a sweet smile. He begins in a dramatic tone acting it out with his hands like he would reading for an imaginative child, “The sun has set not long ago, now everyone goes below, to take a bath in one big tub with soap all over scrub scrub scrub. They hang their towels on the wall and find pajamas big and small, with some on top and some beneath they brush and brush and brush their teeth, and when the moon is on the rise, they all go up to exercise! And down once more but not so fast, they’re on their way to bed at last. The moon is high and the sea is deep and they rock and rock and rock to sleep.” He finishes with a deep bow as Harry claps for him.

“That’s beautiful Lou,” he places a warm hand on Louis’ shoulder giving him a squeeze when he says, “I bet you are a wonderful big brother.”

“I try to be. They grow so fast. It seems like just last week one was born and the week before another one. The littlest ones are almost two, so my mum is constantly stressed, but she really wouldn’t have it any other way. Motherhood is in her DNA.”

“Ones? As in twins?” Harry squeezes his belly and closes his eyes.

“Yes, two sets in fact. One set of girls are 9 and a boy girl combo are 2 in December.”

“When is your birthday?”

“In December.”

“December, the month? You were just born in the month. No day? Louis, you are truly remarkable.” Harry deadpans sending mischievous stars of his own cascading toward Louis.

“If you can guess it within three tries, I’ll give you some sort of prize,” Louis smiles wide like he has nothing to lose.

“Can we play hotter colder?” Harry asks tentatively, rubbing his hands together.

“That’s too easy. You are just like my sisters trying to put me in the trick bag,” he puts his hands on his hips, frowning at Harry.

“You’re right. How about you think really hard about the number and I’ll see if I can guess it in one try. Sound fair?”

“You’re on,” Louis says licking his lips tasting victory already.

"Wait, what's my prize? I want something to look forward to," Harry winks and leans away taking a solid look at Louis.

"M'not tellin'. You won't get it anyway," the older man teases.

“Oh, ok man of little faith. Tell me when you are ready,” Harry pauses and adds a layer of seduction in his tone, “for me.”

 _Oh god oh god oh god._  He clears his mind of any X-rated thoughts and suppresses the ones that are lit like fireworks in the sexual regions of his psyche. _Damn id, always seeking pleasure._ He sees the number 24 clear in his head. Just the number 24 and he’s focusing on it steadily. All 24 all the time. “Ok, I’m ready.”

“Are you thinking really hard?” Harry teases.

“Yes, really hard, Harry,” and as soon as it’s out of his mouth he realizes he’s been tricked into engaging in innuendo and it throws him off because thinking with his dick is exactly what he was trying to avoid. _Fucking Harry_ , he thinks and he’s swept up again with visuals of a sweaty, desperate Harry getting rocked into the pillows calling his name. He takes a deep breath and keeps running the number 24 through his mind. He will not be derailed by this gorgeous person before him.

Harry stares at Louis, contorting his face tilting it side to side, reading over his face like it contains secrets of the universe, the string of fairy lights around the gazebo highlighting his delicate features. He holds on to Louis’ shoulders and leans closer feigning to put their foreheads together.

“16th.”

“No, wrong! I knew you couldn’t do it,” he gloats. “I’ll have to keep the prize for myself then.”

“Not so fast, Houdini. Or should I say LouDini? It’s the 24th but I didn’t want to say it right away in case it sounded … I dunno...creepy?” Louis’ mouth is agape. Harry smiles and runs his palm along Louis’ arm hanging limp by his side. By the time Harry’s hand reached and stopped at Louis’ wrist, he perked up. “Before you ask, you are so easy to read. Too easy, really.”

“Are you some kind of psychic then?”

“Not exactly, but maybe. Not sure.”

“Explain yourself,” Louis has his hands on his hips that are jutted out melodramatically, fingers squeezing into the dips, slightly canted toward Harry. Let’s face it, he’s flirting. “Please,” complete with right eyebrow raise and pout. He adds an upwards puff of breath to his bangs causing them to poof for good dramatic measure.

Harry’s stellar perception skills must have picked up on the heady whiff of ‘Hey sexy, come get some of this’ emanating off of Louis’ being. His eyes bob from Louis’ lips to eyes and back before falling to Louis’ waist, less out of shyness but more out of empowered checking-out, “Uhmm, was hoping you could help me understand it,” he says taking a step closer to Louis.

“Tell me more, young Harry” his eyes moving from Harry’s lips to his eyes, too.  “I, meself, am not psychic, so you need to use your words or some other appropriate form of expression.” He says smiling like a fool. God, he can not contain himself. He is plugged in, kundalini current running through his body like a tesla coil begging to be touched, his energy already arcing to Harry’s body. Being in Harry's presence is somehow even better than his fantasies.

“Ok. Do you find some people are easy to connect with?” he says leaning toward Louis. In other circumstances, he’s one step from moving in for a snog—and god, does he want to. He reaches down to adjust his trousers as his cock plumps between his legs.

“Suuuure, and?” Louis says, sunshine radiating from his eyes.

“Well, I’ve found that some people are easier to connect with and then you just know certain things,” Harry says matter of factly.

“What sorts of things do you know?” Louis leans closer. He can smell Harry now and it’s intoxicating his senses.

“Mostly when people are truthful. Not just in general, but truthful with me. I can feel it.” Harry shrugs. “I don’t quite understand it.”

“I should introduce you to my friend Zain. I bet you two would get on like a house on fire.”

“There you go again with those expressions. Lou, what am I going to do with you?” Two beats later,  “Oh, is Zain gay, too?”

“What do you mean is Zain gay, too? What is that supposed to mean?” Louis responded in a clipped tone that one could call a bit defensive. He steps back a bit to relieve some internal pressure. A vision of Harry on his knees before him makes him stiffen in every sense. He forces himself to remain cool.

Harry looks puzzled until it dawns on him, “I’m asking if Zain is gay like me. Me, too,” pointing to himself leaving no doubt.

 _Ok, close call_. “Zain is complicated. No, rather Zain is complex and that is the preferred descriptor. Infinitely complex and infinitely beautiful.”

“Oh, ok. This Zain person sounds interesting,” Harry leans in a bit further, well-advanced into Louis’ personal space and in a hushed voice said, “I wasn’t asking about you. About your preferences.”

“My preferences are not that important,” he says flatly but feels a zing when he looks Harry in the eyes and it charges him.

Taking the conversation by the reins, Louis leads in, “Harry, when you called me you sounded quite upset and now you’re not? Am I reading that right?” Doctor Tomlinson is back and weak, horny Louis is being held back, perhaps he is bonded, handcuffed to the bed frame and waiting for Harry, but that fantasy is for another day (or night). Right now, he needs to regain control before he does something he’s sure to regret.

“Well, I am still quite upset but being around you makes me feel better,” Harry says quietly and Louis grins like he’s honored to be Harry’s safe haven and Harry mirrors that back. “When I got the news, I freaked out. Like freaked the fuck out. Pardon my language, doctor.” Louis waves him off like there is no need to censor himself.  “I’m shocked. I’m confused. I don’t even know how to think about it...I don’t have the tools, I think you would say,” he pauses, eyes drifting to meet Louis’, ”I just wanted to be with you. To talk. To you.”

“Ok, the suspense is killing me here, Harry,” he mentally chastises himself for using triggering language.

“I had some abdominal X-rays taken today,” he starts acting it out a bit animatedly, “Usually, you stand for the film then the tech reviews it quickly and sends you home.  This time, the tech takes the film and I’m waiting to be released for what seems like 20 minutes. So, things are already weird and I wonder if they forgot about me. I put my clothes back on and wander into the hallway. I see a dark room with the door open, crowded with people, like people are standing in the hall literally leaning in. The room is packed, so I’m curious about the commotion. I know patients are not allowed back there, but I didn’t care because I could hear them talking and it sounded like it was about me. Seemed like every specialist in the hospital and their mother was standing there looking at the screen. I get closer and I can hear they are for sure talking about me. Normally, I am quite shy, but for some reason, I say “Hi” and introduce myself. Lou, the doctors and workers were all stunned. One of the radiologists weaves through the thick crowd and draws me in.”

“….and?”

“And the medical mystery is solved.”

“Ok, and it is?”

He pulls out his phone quickly scrolling through his photos and presents one to Louis.

He takes the phone and studies the screen, “Harry, I’m not trained in medical imaging but did you swallow something?”

“Umm, maybe but not exactly. Keep going.”

“I mean, I know the white parts are bones,” he grimaces at Harry. “It looks like a little skeleton,” he shrugs, “I’m sorry I have no idea what to make of this,” and hands the phone back.

Harry takes a deep breath, bracing himself on Louis, “I’m pregnant.”

“Wait, what?!” Louis shrieks in complete disbelief.

“Do you remember I mentioned the doc saw something funny on my chest X-ray? And wanted to take some abdominal ones to get a better look?”

He nods slowly.

“Apparently the baby’s skeleton was what caught their eye.  It looks just like a skeleton of an animal at a museum or summat.”

“But this skeleton is inside you? There’s a baby inside your………..your man-womb?”

“Yeah. The radiologist tried to explain it to me but I couldn’t think straight. I remember her saying it’s quite rare and there’s maybe a fifty cases a year worldwide, but that it can be medically managed should I choose to go through with it or end it.”

“Ok, congratulations?” he smooths his hand on Harry’s back drawing out soft noises. “What are you going to do?” Louis asks with genuine concern. “Also, me mum’s a midwife and had a case a few years back if you wanted to talk to her about what to expect. She’s a great midwife and could put you in touch with resources you need. Just an option. Her name is Johannah Deakin and her practice is Birthing Naturally in South Manchester. Anyhow, just thinking out loud. But, if there’s any way I can support you, please let me know. I want to be there for you, Harry. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Thank you. I suppose this will require lots of counseling, I guess,” he looks towards Louis’ open demeanor and falls gently into his arms and breaks down.

Louis holds him firmly in his arms, cooing and soothing his sobs. Louis began to talk but the words got lost in his throat. Harry lifts his head to look Louis in the eyes and Louis starts tearing up, too. “We’ll get through this together, ok Harry? You’ve got your Lou. I noticed that’s what you’re calling me now.”

He snuffles out, “I can call you Doctor Tomlinson if you prefer. It’s just that in my heart, I know you as Lou.”

“That’ll do, Hazza, that’ll do,” as he pats Harry’s back and cuddles a bit in Harry’s neck holding him close. Close enough to breathe him in. Close enough to recall the smell of home. He tries to ignore the undeniable hardness he feels in Harry’s trousers though he instinctively presses his pelvis in, wants more of it.

Leaving his pelvis lingering on Harry's, particularly with the long hardness imprinted into his skin from the other boy causes his imagination to go wild. He recruits some willpower and leans back though it is just his upper torso because he is a weak man. He pushes back though he keeps his hands a bit possessively on Harry's biceps. He does contain the urge to roll his hips into Harry's. Small steps.  He breathes through his nose and looks at Harry with care. “Would you like to celebrate with a strawberry? I noticed you didn’t eat anything.  Mostly just picking at stuff. You’ve got to eat for two now,” he suggests lovingly while rubbing Harry’s lower belly.

“I do love those strawberries, but I think I’ll eat this first,” he pulls a banana from his front pocket and peels it from the bottom.

Out of self-preservation, Louis looked away. He's somewhat relieved he was feeling Harry's banana, but this little cherub is his kryptonite after all and he imagines what it would be like to be deep-throated by this young man. He internally cringes thinking about that. He’s debating whether he should try to clear up the kryptonite comment but the moment doesn’t feel right.

Enough time passes and Louis is sure he must be done eating that banana. He quickly glances over toward Harry who has chosen that moment to slip half of the fruit between his large, full lips and sensually chomp it down. _You can’t win, Tommo._ _Look away._ He can’t. He exhales deeply and feels his mouth tingle with saliva. Watching Harry’s throat bob as he swallows is all he can take before he involuntarily forces himself up and away from the bench toward the railing before his dick takes the wheel.

Harry meets him at the railing with two luscious looking strawberries. He hands one to Louis. “Cheers to babies and a lifetime of therapy.” They bonk their ripe fruits together and devour them in three long, drawn out bites.  

Yes, he counted. Yes, they mirrored each other.

It is dark now. The fairy lights providing the only illumination. Louis can't look away from this boy. His features captivate him somewhat against his will and better nature. Harry, for his part, appears to be no better. They exchange glances like loving caresses. 

“Harry, you’ve got a bit of…” pointing to the corner of his mouth. “I’m going to call you Count Chocula,” he says with a laugh.

Harry turns his mouth toward Louis angling it in a motion like he wants Louis to wipe it off of his mouth. Louis girds his willpower, keeping his hands by his side. After a beat, Harry tongues it away with several deliberate strokes.

Add strawberry eating to his list of major turn-ons. Jesus! Yes, he is so fucked and not in the good way.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Friday morning came too soon.

He was restless again in spite of the meditation at bedtime and a halfdose of Berndt’s Klonopin. There’s a few pills left over from when Berndt’s anxiety was affecting his sleep. Seems like there’s always something bubbling beneath his surface that Louis can’t quite put his finger on and Berndt is not exactly an open book. He explained that it’s a North German thing: stoic, not emotional, private. Louis chalks it up to that but maybe that’s just the life of being with a graduate student in a rigorous program.

Louis finds relaxation in mediation and yoga, Berndt in beer and books. They both enjoy a bit of the sweet leaf in edible form. They are set to graduate at the same time and are both diligently working on their research and dissertation. They’re in a bit of a competition for the Fellowship prize, but would likely split it or spend the winnings on something mutually beneficial.

Bedtime, the quiet and darkness, being alone with himself highlights how much is pent up inside of all parts of his being. The tension lives in his body, torqueing his spine, twisting around the muscles, strangling his peace and outside it as well; he feels surrounded and shrouded by its shadowy pulse. He feels so much, too much.  

He has the tools, though…so he forced himself to deep breathe and not click on that vid that his memory jumps to throughout the day. His hands yearn to tug on that curly haired one’s everything and not stop until he is heavy breathing, circumoral tingly hypoxic with pleasure. As much as he desires release and orgasm, the disconnect that it’s not actually Harry he’s experiencing it with leaves him feeling bereft and empty.  Video Harry is a tease that leaves Harry-shaped holes in his heart and on his hands when he’s working his dick furiously under the covers. Wanting, so much wanting.  Leave it to the superego and his own commitments to suppress it.

He feels like a kid on Christmas opening up gorgeously wrapped empty boxes.  

After rolling around for forty five minutes losing the battle in ignoring the demands coming from his full cock, he gives in. He clicks on the video and strokes slowly through the bathtub scene, biting his lip and brings himself to a soul shaking orgasm as the Harry character sits on the Louis character’s face stroking his gorgeous cock to a rollicking release as well. BOOM!

Visions of last night’s dreams played over and over in his sleep-heavy mind. Thoughts jumping around seemingly of their own volition and landing places that brought up strong emotions. He’s antsy alone in their bed, alone again and sniffs his partner’s pillow in an attempt to ground himself in something familiar. There’s some of Berndt’s scent in the fabric, or maybe he’s hallucinating it. It smells mostly of washing powder.

Part of him wishes he could roll over and give Harry a good morning kiss. He hates himself for imagining that in full vivid detail. He hates that he has these thoughts and feelings. He hates himself even more that he feels this way toward a patient, and a pregnant teenage one at that. He is a pervy, unethical piece of shit and sits with that realization for a while.

He groans, stretching his arms over his head and shakes the sleep out of legs. He’s got a long day ahead of him.  Classes to attend, three clients to talk to, bags to pack and he needs to get clarification whether Berndt is joining him at the retreat like his heart wants to suspect, but he’s trying not to have expectations about it. He reserved a two-bed cabin just in case.  He’s put the intention out there to the universe and has gratitude for it being fulfilled in the best possible way; now just to surrender to the outcome. Zain would be pleased.

He’s had a struggle managing expectations in the past. At least he had a slightly dry scone to eat for breakfast courtesy of a certain beautiful baker.  He reminds himself to be grateful for all the gifts in his life, even the day-old ones, handcrafted with care, even if he really doesn't deserve it.

He sends a quick text to Berndt and leaves the flyer on the table in case he wants to join him.

The day lags and his thoughts are adrift, even when he is with his clients. He should have cancelled. Can’t focus.

No text from Berndt. He stares at his phone like if he mentally gives it the third-degree it will capitulate and reveal all the pixelated syntactic secrets it’s been holding hostage.

When he gets home, the flat is empty but it seems like Berndt had been there at some point throughout the day, unless they have a cat burglar that steals nothing, moves a few things and leaves a juice glass in the sink.  Two glasses in fact. _Odd._ He scans their place for other indications that someone had been home, but he really can’t tell. The flyer is gone.

_Maybe that’s a good sign?_

He sends Berndt another text of little consequence. _Manage those expectations, Tommo._ Moments later he hears that familiar peep. _Un-fucking-real?_  He sends another one and another and follows the noise. He quickly finds it on Berndt’s desk under a Psychology Today journal.   _Explains things. Why is he so fucking careless?_

He quickly packs up, tosses his bag in the car and heads up to the mountains attempting to leave the mysteries of life in Manchester.

On the drive up, he mentally cuts the cords tying him to his life at home. Freedom with each snip. Although he is one person, he energetically has ties to so many people and when he examined them, he realized they were draining him. Snip snip, ahhhh.

When he arrives at the retreat center, he feels lifted somehow. He can breathe deeper and easier. His shoulders release and he feels more alive.  The chilly mountain air cleanses him and blows the dust off of his daily grind.  The grounds are serene. Tall trees, flowers and a quite bit of empty space around the buildings gives his mind space to exhale and discover ease.

 _This is just what the doctor ordered_ , he thinks as he slings his rucksack over his back, yoga mat tucked under his arm and a spring in his step as he heads to the reception hall.

A young woman with scarves in her hair, a lot of necklaces, some essential oils perfume and a warm smile greets him behind the check in desk.

“Welcome!”

“Thank you,” Louis answers a half octave too high. His voice a stranger.

“I’m Sylvie.  I’m one of the coordinators here at the Kundalini Exploration retreat,” she looks up at him, smiling, pen in her hand and clearly waiting for him to continue.

“Oh, sorry. Yes, Louis Tomlinson,” he offers prying his mind out of the clouds.

“Oh, yes, there you are,” she highlights his name on the roster.

“In the flesh,” he teases.

She gives him a knowing smile. “Let’s see. I have a note about your lodging.”

He can practically read her mind.

“Oh yes, it shows you reserved a two bed cabin. Were you expecting someone to join you?”

Louis looks on as if he is not sure how to answer.

She awaits a response and continues when he doesn’t provide one. “Usually they are booked by friends or couples, so we try to accommodate people….to make people comfortable.”

“Riiight,” he sighs. “I understand. Ummm, yeah, so it’s just me. My friend couldn’t make it,” his words fall like lofty bricks. “I can pay extra though if it goes unused.”

“Actually, we are completely booked.  We did have a late registrant and we didn’t want to offer full accommodation not knowing about your situation. All the spots are called for in the main dorms and campsites. So yours is the only spot left and we didn’t know if you felt comfortable sharing the room with a stranger.”

“I think it should be ok. I come from a big family, so I am used to sharing space and food and not having privacy.”

“Well, hopefully you won’t have to share your food,” she laughs openly and the tension is broken. “And there should be enough privacy in the cabin. I hope you find it comfortable. There’s a nice sized bathroom in there, so you have a place to shower and change etc. It is our most luxurious accommodation.”

 _I know, I’ve researched it for hours and my arsehole puckered up entering my credit card number_ , Louis remembers painstakingly planning this trip.

She continues, “It’s not exactly spacious, but the beds are quite heavenly. And they are off-set, so it’s not like you two will be on top of each other.”

Louis feels his muscles relax and he’s sinking into that space of allowance and whatever entails being a participant in this experience.  

“Ok, I’ll call him and offer it to him. I don’t know if he’ll come up tonight or join us tomorrow.”

“Hiiimm?” he stammers.

“Yes, I can perhaps tweak the arrangements a bit if you are not comfortable with a same sex situation.”

“Oh, no, not at all. Preferred even,” he responds lightly. She giggled, too, at the remark.  Something dawns on him, “I respect personal privacy and everything but can you tell me anything about him so I know what to expect?” He was tempted to make a corny joke but restrained himself.

“You know, I am not good with remembering names. Uhhhh, I think he’s in his mid 20’s from Manchester. And quite polite. I quite look forward to meeting him. He sounded so enthusiastic and excited. Had a lot of questions. Seemed like a delightful chap. A real lovely vibe. Speaks from the heart. ”

“That’s good enough for me,” his hands in the yogic prayer position, his chin drops to his fingertips.

She holds up her hand palm facing Louis, eyes closed, face relaxed, “From what I sense about you, I think you two will be energetically compatible.” She opens her eyes again, smiling at him genuinely and extends a bundle retrieved from a box at her desk.

Pointing to the retreat’s itinerary with her pencil, she begins, “Our dinner gathering is from 6-730 and then there’s a welcome reception where you can chill and get to know people if you desire, and an evening meditation in the Shakti room afterward. You are free to choose to participate in whatever you’d like.” She moves her pencil down, “There’s yoga throughout the day and a variety of classes tomorrow like aura reading, acutonics, painting and spa services as well. We hope that you fully enjoy your experience here and if there is anything we can do to make it more pleasant, please let us know.”

She hands him his cabin keys, a Kundalini Exploration 2016 commemorative t-shirt, an itinerary, a colourful metallic drinking bottle with the words “love yourself” on it, and a map of the grounds. She bows her head, places her palms together and sets them on her heart, “Namaste.”

“Namaste,” he mirrors.

He thanks her and heads out to drop off his stuff and explore.

He follows the road and then the walking paths denoted by the hand-carved wooden signs to his cabin. It is one of the most remote parts of the grounds. He sees two other cabins off in the distance. _Lucky number 13._

He opens the door and is pleasantly surprised by how clean and home-like it feels in there. There’s just two beds set perpendicular on either side of the cabin. Two dressers. Two desks. A bathroom with a decent looking shower, toiletries provided, white fluffy towels and zen-inspired decorations. Basically, this place is bad ass and he currently fucking stoked on life.

He opens the windows, probably as the cabin would want him to do, to get some fresh forest air circulating in there.  On each desk, there is a journal, an eco-friendly wood barreled pen, an electric candle, some heart shaped chocolates and parchment with the quote from Yogi Bhajan, _"_ Kundalini Yoga is the science to unite the finite with infinity, and it's the art to experience infinity in the finite." _Infinity, infinityyyy_ , his mind drifts remembering some song he heard on the radio on the drive up.

He continues reading aloud, “Kundalini yoga is referred to as the Yoga of Awareness as through it you can experience your soul. This practice is for everyone. Kundalini Yoga uses poses, mudras, chanting and dynamic movement to increase physical vitality and consciousness. Through it you will develop the tools to harness the energies from your spirit, mind, emotions, nervous system and body and connect to higher consciousness.” He feels his whole body resonate strongly, YES.

 

There are no extra electrical outlets, but he has no reception and his phone is probably ten minutes from being dead anyway.

He slips off his Toms and puts on some hiking shoes and sets off exploring until dinner.

Man returning to nature. He feels quite at home. It feels good to shake the hustle and bustle of the city from his bones and being.

Perspective.

As the colours become warmer and the temperature becomes cooler, he figures it must be getting to be dinner time. All this hiking and thinking has drummed up quite an appetite.

He follows the general vibe and sees folks gathering in a building down the trail.

Dinner is delicious. He meets lots of lovely people at the welcome reception. The fireside meditation proves to be incredible and he literally floats back to his cabin.

Neither hide nor hair of his cabinmate. He gets ready for bed, pops two melatonin, a half dose of Klonopin and with a few loving messages to his body he jerks off dry-handed into a spare T-shirt and is carried off to a very deep sleep.

...........

He wakes up to the sunlight streaming in the windows inviting him to join the day.

 _Alright, since you asked so nicely._ He stretches and rolls around the luxurious linens a few times to get his bearings, his body soaking up the sensuous sensation of the high thread count sheets.  He peeks over, still no one there. _Just as well._

He gets ready and heads out the door and stops in stun when he sees a sleeping bag, belongings and other personal effects laying next to the cabin. _Did someone sleep outside?_ Someone clearly slept outside. _Oh, fuck, I wonder if I locked him out?_ Remorse filled his body as he walked down to the breakfast buffet.

Still feeling off, he grabbed some tea and a scone and sat outside away from people.  He locked someone out and that person had to sleep on the ground. He feels like an arsehole and can’t shake the guilt.

He joins a kundalini yoga class in progress and chooses a spot in the corner to sink into his practice moving through the asanas, waking his body with pranayama breathing, or rather experiencing his body waking up. The energy starts to slowly move up through his spine making his body feel more alive than it has in years.

He rides the waves of the river of libidinal energy rising and swirling in his body as he chants Sat Nam with the class. Sat nam means the truth is my identity. He feels alive and no desire to hide from himself, anymore.  

He had the awareness that he is the only one powerful enough to block his energy and the only one powerful enough to let it rush through. Any emotional finger-pointing at Berndt is just a distraction. It’s him. In acknowledging his role, his soul ascended through layers of clarity upon layers of clarity and he found himself playing in a higher frame of existence. He’s always been curious about astral travel and it seems he’s done some with the meditation.

His body feels bright, completely infused with light. He feels joyful and at ease. He is connected to everything.  Everything around him he recognizes as instantiations of love. _I see the beauty in you, you magical tree. You receive and receive so easily._

He peeks in on a painting class, _nah_. Remembering all the spa options, he hustles down to the desk and  schedules an in-cabin massage for the evening.  He’s going whole hog.

Next he wanders to a laughing meditation and yoga class. _What on earth?_ Again, already in progress. _What is up with these overlapping classes?_

The class is quiet, everyone is in savasana, corpse pose, laying flat breathing. He finds a spot and quickly joins them, syncing up with the vibe of the class. He can tell from a few breaths that he is with his people. The instructor gives them a few bits of information and then they partner with the person to the left. As they laugh together as a group, the laughter becomes genuinely contagious and he can’t stop. He is deep breathing, his whole body is activated and he’s working up a sweat. The class is instructed to hold their partner’s hand and look into their eyes and connect to core, and just start laughing at the goofy ideas that floated into their heads. Let it go, laugh. Laugh it out.

There’s a high- vibration intensity as people are encouraged to meditate and then laugh out loud at whatever absurdity came into their heads. It is so freeing, he feels like he is levitating from the heavy stress leaving his body.

He hears something familiar and his heart perks.  With Harry occupying his thoughts so much the past few days, it is no surprise that his mind creates this experience of thinking he hears Harry. Just like a weary nomad hallucinating an oasis, his soul seeks its salvation. He sees a vision of he and Harry floating up into the air holding hands like people do when they do jumps out of an airplane, going up up up and being bathed in pure love energy. He gives himself a hug and a huge laugh erupted since it is such an absurd thought.

After class, people quickly file out and Louis stays to chat with the teacher for a while.

Next there’s a yoga teacher training and philosophy discussion. During the drier bits, he finds his mind drifting to curly hair, green eyes and the kindest heart. And he’s pregnant. Louis can’t wrap his brain around that but he’d like to wrap himself around Harry since he has the loveliest energy. He considers Berndt, their eight years as a couple, their long-term family plans and all the roads that they’ve traveled together. _Maybe we can adopt Harry’s baby_ , he muses.

After lunch, there’s a Soul Gazing class. The room is dark and there are candles lit all around the class. He gets there early, snags a bolster, finds a spot in the front and waits in lotus position, eyes closed. He’s deep in meditation when he hears his teacher’s words.

“Soul gazing allows you to experience your own soul seen through someone else’s eyes. Gazing, as you will find, is quite intimate. If you allow yourself to go deeply into the exercise, you will find a deeper connection to another, as well as to yourself, than you may have ever thought possible. Soul Gazing is an eye contact exercise that developed from the tantric tradition and is entirely non-verbal communication with your partner or lover. It allows you to harmonize your spirit with that of your partner and allows for you to communicate from the lightest heart center.

“While you are doing this exercise, you will likely become uncomfortable. Being in this vulnerable space that we are creating here brings up anxieties, fears and other emotions or thoughtforms that we work hard as humans in this realm to suppress. This will be happening for your partner as well. Please just observe those things that pop up in your mind, but focus on your breath and focus on your partner.

“You will be looking into your partner’s left eye. That is the receiving eye, the feminine eye according to the tantric tradition. The gaze comes naturally and does not feel like an intrusive stare. It feels like you are being seen—like really seen—by your lover or friend in your most honouring way. You are also seeing yourself in this way, too, as you sink deeper into the exercise. You may see visions arise. Many people report that they see their partner’s true essence—and it is beautiful.”

She gives some general instruction and then they are asked to partner up. Some awkwardness arose in his chest as he’s feeling in a rather delicate state and is frankly feeling quite confused and vulnerable.

Behind him, he hears people pairing up, candles being arranged and cushions scooting.  He hopes that no one will ask him so he can pair up with the teacher. He feels like he wants to be in the hands of a professional moving into such an exposed space. He keeps his eyes trained on her as she fiddles with the music and waits for people to get settled.

He feels a hand on his shoulder which surprises him. It feels heavy and a little nervous if the shaking is not his imagination. He turns his head and follows the arm and he’s met with a lovely face.

“Lou, will you be my partner?” heart eyes, lop-sided grin, curls. Heaven.

“Harry! What are you doing here? I mean, of course. What a surprise to see you here! I literally cannot believe my eyes.” Of course, Louis cannot do anything quietly, so in a matter of seconds all eyes are on them watching this made-for-TV reunion.

“Had to. Hope it’s alright,” Harry confesses quietly.

“Sure. Of course. I mean, I’m just so surprised. I’m sorry. Come here give me a hug.” They practically jump into each other’s arms though they are seated and nearly knock each other over multiple times hugging this way and that, pulling each other.

“When you’re quite ready,” the teacher smiles and turns toward the rest of the class leading them in the exercise.

They quickly arrange the bolsters so that they’re facing each other, sitting cross legged, a large candle between them looking at each other’s face. Smiles involuntarily popping up, reflection of the self mirroring the other.

“First, you are going to sit facing your partner. If you are just meeting today, please introduce yourself.” They introduce themselves like a couple of dorks. “Next, please place your left palm up and right palm down. This enables you to receive and transmit energy. Then, please place your hands on your partner’s knees or hold hands if you feel comfortable doing so. Holding hands completes the energetic circuit between you and your partner.”

They arrange their hands as instructed and put them together so they are holding hands. Louis feels an irresistible urge to lean forward and kiss Harry’s cheek, so he does.

Harry beams back and leans forward and presses a kiss to Louis’ right cheek, then his left one and a big smacker on his third-eye.

Louis observes the feeling of being oddly challenged by this and would love to unrestrain himself so he can win the kiss contest.

They’re both smiling like it’s the best day on earth and they have each other. They bow to each other and lean forward for one last snuggle.

“Ok, I would like you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Deep inhale, deep exhale. Deep inhale, deep exhale. Look deeply within yourself and feel those feelings that come up. I want you to feel them fully, and observe them, but do not let them distract you from focusing on your breath. Notice any tension in your body, use your breath to release that.  When you are ready and feeling centered, then signal to your partner with a tap or a squeeze that you are ready to start gazing. Your partner may not be ready so wait for his or her cue, then begin together. Gazing can bring up a lot of emotions for people and so you may be tempted to look away and break the connection. If you do, just focus on your breath and recenter yourself and connect to your partner again. Allow yourself to focus completely on your partner. This focus will prevent distractions or melt them away. The gazing allows your mind to still and find quiet. In this quiet, through this exercise, it allows you to connect with a higher self that is beyond the body, mind and ego. You will have access to your partner’s high vibration. The more you can sync up your gaze, the deeper you will go. Please enjoy and begin when you are ready.”

They both lean forward for one last cheek kiss before they get started. Feels so indulgent but they’re so high on vibration, they’re just following the energy and boop, leads right back to each other. Funny how that happens.

They both shake out the wiggles and close their eyes and hold hands in the instructed way. Zings of intensity start firing through their bodies and it causes Harry to moan quietly. Louis shivers through it and hopes that his cock doesn’t jump up and want to participate. Just holding Harry’s hands and observing the sensations of love and connection make it stand completely at attention in the energetic sense. Present.

“Focus on your breath. Deep inhale, deep exhale. All that matters is your breath.”

After a few minutes of racing thoughts the amorphous, unfounded fears float up and away and Louis feels centered so he squeezes Harry’s hand.

A minute or so later, Harry indicates he is ready, so together they open their eyes, immediately smile shyly and both look away.  Using the breath to refocus, they attempt it again. Harry finds a little tension in his throat and uses his breath to move the energy.

Louis finds some tension in his neck and they sync their breathing and look deeper. When the connection is unbroken, the vision starts to tunnel in and out, everything is bright, the eyes are relaxed and the body feels light.  

Harry settles in and opens himself up to be seen by Louis. Waves of vulnerability wash over him and he keeps them ebbed out with the breath. He feels himself becoming open and the more he does, the more he sees Louis and the more connected he feels to himself. He rocks his pelvis a bit to get the energy moving down there like he learned in the Kundalini class. Louis mirrors his movements and they’re riding the waves of colourful energy up their spine, out of the crown and spinning back down in the other.

Louis emotes an occasional moan as the energy courses in and out of his body. He feels it dancing through their bodies and with the breath, they’re able to harness it a bit better. More rodeo, less bucking bronco.  He feels his chakras open and connect to Harry’s. Waves of pleasure rise in his body and through the eyes of the soul, he is able to see a bright loving being, surrounded by laughing children. He sends love to this being while keeping his focus on his breath, going higher and higher with Harry’s spirit. On the periphery of his vision, he sees another male spirit enter and join with his partner. It is so beautiful that he almost can’t run energy this intense through him without short circuiting. He does and has to look away.

Harry immediately takes him in his arms and tells him he has the most beautiful soul and that he is surrounded by loving beings. They share what they saw whispering and hugging. Adding more and nuzzling. It is here in each other’s arms that they end the class, wrapped up Namaste-ing to each other.

“Harry, thank you for being you. Thank you for being willing. Thank you for sharing yourself. You truly are beautiful beyond description.”

“Thank you, Lou. I’m not sure what to say,” Harry says shyly. “That was the coolest thing I have ever experienced.”

“Powerful stuff.”

“I’ve never fallen in love before, but that’s what I imagine it to be like,” he looks down and then straight at Louis, “I’m glad it was with you. Would be kinda weird to have that with a stranger.”

“Mmmmhmm.” Louis’ ability to use language left the building an hour ago.

“My body feels shaky. But good.”

“You need a snack?” Louis inquires with care.

“I think I need to move around. Back’s hurting,” he says twisting and stretching his bod.

“Sorry to hear that. You know you can get a massage here. I have one scheduled in a few hours.”

“That sounds amazing. Had a rough night,” he confessed.

“How come?” Louis asks reaching out and pulling Harry even closer.

“I did something stupid and slept on the ground.”

“Are you camping here or…?

“No, I’m actually staying in a cabin and I got here super late. When I got there, the door was locked and the window was open and I heard snoring. I didn’t want to wake anyone up.”

“You’re shitting me?” Louis utters in disbelief yanking Harry toward him then pushing him away.

Harry released his arm from Louis' and looks him straight in the face, “I feel stupid because I didn’t realize that I had the key in all that bundle of crap they give you. Was so tired, I just laid down.”

Louis grips him softly by the shoulders, “Harry! First of all, I am sorry for locking you out.”

“Whuuut?”

“Second of all, I’m your cabin mate. And third of all, I’m buying you a massage right now.” He tugs Harry by the arm to the desk to schedule one.

The man at the desk eyed them carefully, “The only availability is at 6 with Michael. Would you like this in your cabin?”

“Yes, sure," Louis answers without hazarding a glance at Harry.

“It looks like you are booked for a massage at the same time, Mr. Tomlinson. We can make it a couples massage. It’s got the bodywork elements of a regular massage, with the addition of essential oils and stones that have properties of grounding and deeper love. There’s some channeling and tantric chanting and sometimes drumming on the part of the therapists as well as some tuning forks to fortify your chakras. It is 90 minutes, though and a bit more expensive. I’ve heard the experience is priceless, though.”

“That sounds, ummmmmmm, heavenly,” Louis breathes and the thought of sharing that with Harry makes his arm hairs stand up.

“T'is," the man affirms while glancing between the two men reading their reactions.

“We’re not a couple though, so I’m not sure ….uhmmmm,” Louis stammers, suddenly feeling on the spot and unsure of his plan.

“Well, you might be by the time you finish,” he laughs. “‘M joking. ‘M joking. It’s not necessarily romantic but it certainly is a beautiful thing to experience with someone else, particularly if you are close even in a friendly way.”

“I can’t imagine anything better, to be honest, Lou,” Harry runs his hand from Louis’ low back, caressing along his left side and around his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and gliding softly back down to rest at the base of his spine.

“Ok, let’s do it!” he declares confidently. He focuses his attention straight ahead knowing if he looked at Harry, his face and true intentions would betray him.

Louis feels some bonds strengthening between them and it’s making him queasy. _Really needs to have that talk with Berndt. And Harry is clearly with someone, after all, they’re having a baby together._

“Walk and talk?” Louis suggests as they leave the wooden building and transition outside.

“I’d love to,” Harry responds softly and offers Louis his elbow which is quickly linked up, grounding them both.

“So, you’re here. Why?” Louis pulls him a bit closer causing Harry to stumble a bit though Louis is right there to stabilize him and keep him close.

“I saw a flyer at the studio you mentioned and spoke to the woman at the counter about it. She said that it would be ok for a beginner. I‘m surprised you are here, too. Pleasantly surprised. I had a hunch after what you said about being away, out of mobile reception though.” He pauses and leans a bit closer to Louis, holding his upper arm and squeezes it a bit when he says, “And it just felt right.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around everything. How did you register? I think it is adults only,” Louis questions giving Harry the side-eye.

“I have a fake ID,” Harry confessed. “No one asked me for it though. Pretty relaxed here.”

Louis stops in his tracks to look at Harry, “And your mum? She just lets her newly pregnant son leave on a yoga retreat 2 hours away.”

“Told her you would be here,” his eyes trail from Louis’ hair to his eyes to his lips and bubbles of love blip behind Harry’s eyes. “...was kinda hoping….”

Louis feels a flush rush up on his cheeks and his body feels tingles of pleasure throughout and all of a sudden, words come out of his mouth, “Oh my god, I hate to bring this up but at some point we should talk about boundaries. I’m pretty sure it violates some code of ethics for this” he gestures between the two of them, “to be happening. I mean, holding hands was technically part of the exercise but I shouldn’t have kissed your cheeks earlier.” He steps back from Harry and looks away a bit ashamed. “There’s probably a No Snuggling clause in the law somewhere. I’ve been behaving all kinds of unprofessional and I apologize. Sorry, I don’t mean to be like…”

Harry closes the gap and puts his hands on Louis’ hips, “Why? You’re not on duty. Just be yourself. Don’t overthink it.”

“You know what? I’m way out of my comfort zone, that’s all.” He feels their bodies vibrating together and even though he knows he should pull out of the embrace, he drifts a hair closer and breathes Harry in.

“Isn’t that where growth happens?” Harry lovingly puts one hand on Louis’ head clearly referencing that he’s a good 4 inches shorter than him, “Looks like you could use a little more….nudging out of your comfort zone.” The hand on Louis’ hip gives a flirty little squeeze causing Louis to yelp and jump back.

“You are a dirty dog, you know that. I’m 5 foot 9 and that’s one inch above average.”

“Above average? If you say so, Lou,” Harry scoffs.

As they walk down the path, Louis can’t help but let his eyes drift to Harry’s arse and his long legs. He is a vision in soft sport joggers and a band T-shirt. He just wants to get closer closer closer and get into safe sniffing and casual touching range.

At 5:45 they arrive back at the cabin. Louis sheepishly takes out the key and opens the door allowing Harry to bring his belongings in from outside. While he’s bent over, Louis walks over and picks some branches and treeshit out of his curls.   _Just some innocent grooming between friends,_ he lies to himself because touching Harry’s hair brought up all kinds of unprofessional visuals--mainly snogging before being fucked boneless on his back threading his fingers deeply through Harry’s hair and pulling.

They ro-sham-bo and Louis lines up to take the first shower.  He’s got about 5-8 minutes of his share of shower time. He debates squeezing one off. He’s certainly been aroused at least spiritually all day, but the thought of Harry hearing him or walking in mortifies him so he quickly shits and showers. He exits the bathroom with a towel around his waist and he catches Harry raking him over with his eyes. This is definitely the part of the porno where they start making out. And he is close enough to see that Harry’s pupils are also dilating. The nervous system doesn’t lie. He’s either undeniably aroused or he just did a bump of coke but definitely not that, so he must be in his sexy feelings.

The massage therapists, Lucy and Michael, arrive a few minutes early to set up their equipment, light candles and set the scene. Lucy dims the lights and they exchange pleasantries and wait for Harry to emerge. He’s been in there for 15 minutes and it’s cutting into their massage time. It’s also very quiet in the cabin, so the occasional, odd suspicious throaty noise escapes from the bathroom area. They instinctively turn toward the bathroom the first few times they heard it, then Michael laughs and turns on some music.

He emerges a few minutes later lips bitten slightly swollen, rosy and clean, towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

 _Jerkoff confirmed, that fucker. Lucky fucker._ Louis feels a slight bit of painful arousal at the thought of Harry running his soapy hands over his own cock and not being able to be in the Splash Zone. The thought of being on his knees, submitting to this gorgeous boy, mouth open getting face painted is enough to sustain his fantasies for a while.

They start the massage face down. The tables are lined up next to each other and he can feel Harry’s energy. He’s tempted to reach out and stroke his arm, or hold his hand. He doesn’t and the supression tortures him.

Throughout the massage, Harry utters little moans and groans of appreciation and pleasure and each one stokes a fire burning in Louis’ loins and is quickly on its way to  becoming a cum conflagration.

“We are going to start applying various essential oils to your chakras that have properties that act to support your expansion and opening up. These are flower essences, sometimes called the soul of the flower and the same could be said for the chakras, that they are the energetic flowers of your soul which open with proper stimulation.  We are going to place vibrating tuning forks on the area to open or strengthen your chakras which are vital energy sources at seven places on the body. We’ll start with the first two while you are face down, then we will flip you over to continue.”

Lucy leans between them, speaking softly, “This one is a blend of vetiver and patchouli and its properties are grounding to this plane. Louis feels some warm oil drip on his buns and slide down the crack. The ring of his arse is stimulated in a lovely way and he wants to moan to honour his body, but he suppresses it on one condition:  when he gets home he is going to jerk off for 3 hours straight he promises himself—if he can keep his dick down. _Stay down you wannabe soon to be father fucker._

Next a vibrating tuning fork is placed in the gluteal cleft commonly known as the arse crack on his coccyx.

He hears Harry “Ooooooohhhhhhhh, oh my god…” Moaning, “I feel, I feel so much. I’m, I’m seeing colours.”

She explains, "This tuning fork is calibrated to resonate with your root chakra which is associated with the colour red. The root chakra is located in your pelvic area and is associated your survival needs. Food, money, sex, relationships."

“I thiiink it is turned on,” he stammers between breaths.

“That’s good, Harry. Try not to think too much and just settle in and enjoy it. And, if you are seeing colours already, then you may continue to. So you don’t have to think about it, the colours essentially go in a rainbow from red at your root chakra, orange at the sacral, yellow at solar plexus, green at heart, blue at the throat, indigo at the third eye and purpley clear at the crown.”

“Cool, I’ve found a new passion. I study rainbows. This is wild, Lou!”

Lucy continues, “That’s the traditional interpretation of it but it’s all energy so anything is possible. Next up is the sandalwood and geranium oils for the sacral chakra. The sacral chakra is your emotional attachment to the properties of the root chakra as well as energetic connection to your sex organs. The tuning fork is placed at your sacrum or low back region, enjoy.” Her little giggle at the end could barely be detected.

Harry starts humming with something he cannot contain and he lets it out, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeee, eeeeeeeeeee, uhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhh.”

The vibration stops and the room goes quiet. Everyone takes a deep breath and Louis thinks he can hear the therapists holding back giggles. _Harry is so extra. It is damn charming._

“Now we are going to have you roll over onto your back and I will hold the tuning forks while Michael drums a bit. I may ask you to hold the fork as well. You hold it here at the stem and place it on your body. If you are being called to move them to another part of your body, honour your knowing and feel free to move it. ”

Lucy drips some essential oils on his and Harry’s bare bodies, from the navel to the throat, with a dab to the forehead and scalp. The sheet is covering them at the waist and below.

Louis looks over. Harry’s eyes are closed, mouth slightly open and he sees Harry’s cock is tenting the sheet quite a bit. Blood rushes to his own dick and he quickly asks, “Do you think I could get a blanket?”

“Oh, are you cold?” Lucy asks concerned.

“No.”

Michael smiles and hands him a light blanket.

Louis tries to be subtle but makes quick work of covering himself up his pelvis.

“Ok, hold this fork right here right above your pubic bone. This is sacral fork again. This might stimulate some kundalini energy which can feel intensely sexual in nature. I am going to hold the solar plexus fork. The solar plexus is for personal strength. These two sync nicely together.” She strikes both forks and passes them to Louis and Harry with a gentle smile. Then she strikes her forks and places them in the middle of the abdomen.

As they resonate, Louis feels quite connected to himself and can definitely feel the kundalini energy percolating. He hazards a look in Harry’s direction and Harry meets his eyes and gives him the sweetest, most blissed out smile. He wants to bathe in Harry’s affection. Like forever.

Lucy bongs the tuning forks again and Harry starts making noises seemingly involuntarily. From the looks of it, he is trying to contain himself breathing through his nose, tensing up his body.

Lucy leans down, “Harry, honey, let it out. Feel free to voice what’s coming through you. This is a safe place for you to be you. Don’t hold yourself back if the energy is moving through you. If you feel something let it out. We are used to hearing it and I’m sure Louis is, too.” He nods.

“Better than sex. Don’t have words,” Harry utters choppily.

“This energetic work is beyond time and space. It comes through in waves. Just ride them. The chakras are energy wheels, so when they open, they’re powerful medicine that can feel like light spinning through your body,” Michael adds leaning between the two but directing the comment at Harry.

Louis adds, “I know it is your first time with this. It’s okay to feel a lot. Your body is getting activated in ways it probably hasn’t been before. I feel this, too, I just do it a lot. Part of the new agey stuff I mentioned.”

“When we get home, Lou, we are doing this all the time,” Harry demanded like it was the truest thing he's ever said.

“Ok Hazza. Just relax and let your body be a vessel,” Louis responded with gentleness and tried to ignore what Harry was implying.

Michael bends down between them, his drumming had slowed to a relaxing rate then stopped, placing a hand on both of them and says, “How’s this? When you start making noises, we’ll both vocalize to heighten the experience. It helps to keep the vital energy moving. Lucy might even sing for us.”

Lucy bongs the sacral fork and then the solar plexus one a third or fourth time and Harry feels his body being transported by the vibration.  He starts moaning again in waves. He turns and locks eyes with Louis. Within moments they start to gaze and the energy heightens and elevates. Louis can feel their energies synergize and start moving together.

Harry looks transcendent and Louis sees great circuits of light move around them and through them. He notes some resistance in his system tightening his breath, contracting him and instinctively looks toward Harry and the solar plexus chakra blows wide open. Riding this momentum, powerful kundalini energy surging through his body, Louis lets out a soul cleansing growly moan and just lets his dick do its thing. He’s past the point of no return. It’s in the universe’s hands at this point.

Lucy activates the heart chakra and Louis was temporarily distracted. He feels his heart rise and open bigger and brighter. He feels like he is literally being lifted off of the table by wheels of light energy.  Lucy starts singing and it is like being serenaded by angels. He looks toward Harry who is just as swept up in the experience. His face is serene and light surrounds his body. He feels paralyzed like he is having an out of body experience. He sees himself reaching out and holding Harry’s hand, intensifying their bond, but he doesn't do it.

Michael’s vocalizing and drumming heightens the experience even more and he feels like his heart is being connected with Harry’s and connecting to the divine consciousness.

Louis opens his mouth and is overcome; moans and noises flowing out like an undammed reservoir.

She activates the heart chakra again while he holds the sacral fork. His eyes roll back and he is having spiritual orgasm after orgasm. He feels Harry’s eyes on him fluttering like a fairy’s wings. Lucy activates Harry’s heart and sacral chakra forks and it is all over for those two. Harry is moaning and writhing on the table.

Louis can perceive the subtle energy around them enveloping them, providing emotional and spiritual buoyancy.  He feels a warm energy on his arm, stroking it. He lets himself enjoy the pets and caresses. It’s been a long time since he’s felt loved or seen.

Lucy gives the heart fork to the guys and she tones the throat chakra, the wheel of truth, communication and expression.

She strikes the forks on Harry first and he is singing and he has the voice of the dirtiest sex, middle register. Hearing Harry’s voice activates his own and he’s singing, too. And it is taken once again to another level. His throat chakra opens up and the melodies pour out. Their voices together sound like magic and match perfectly. Lucy begins singing with their duo and her high notes crack open celestial boundaries and break the sky. Louis feels his arm hair standing straight up and Harry continues to caress him and he can feel the bumps under Harry’s fingers. For a flash, he wonders if there was MDMA in the lunch offering.

She moves up to the third eye and activates Harry first. He looks straight ahead like he is being visited by angels or communicating telepathically.

Then Louis. His spirit was taken even higher and he saw into his future.  He heard a voice he recognized as his main spirit guide and was taken up in a psychic embrace. He saw ribbons of light around Harry’s waist with beams radiating out in all directions. _That’s the baby_ , his guide murmurs and Louis’ heart soars.

The moment is broken when he hears Harry snuffling on the table, huge tears leaking out of his eyes.  He reaches out to him and Harry meets him halfway and they are holding hands.

Lucy activates the heart and third eye forks again and Louis is at peace. He is home. He is experiencing pure love and he feels his cells healing, vitality returning to his body. He hears soothing murmurs from his guide and Harry’s hand completes the circuit. He can hear Harry’s crying in the background but doesn’t note any attachment to it.

He feels a tug on his arm as it is being stretched upwards and towards Harry. It doesn’t register until he feels soft warm lips on the back of his hand and then on each finger. Louis’ riding the waves of ecstasy and joy and tears pour out of his eyes. He could not even control it if he wanted to. He’s stepped way deep into surrender and allowance and his face is awash with tears. Harry keeps kissing his hand and strokes it gently against his own wet cheeks and runs Louis’ fingers through his curls.

He turns to Harry and watches Harry kiss his hand and they’re soul gazing again. He feels all their chakras lining up and flowing like an indomitable body of water.

Harry continues softly yet deeply kissing each of Louis’ fingers, up and down each one while holding eye contact. Louis’ circuits bust and he is once again embodying cosmic orgasm, open mouth moaning toward Harry. This must be the part of the porno where they fuck and come together in such an elevated state that they meet God and high five angels in post-coital afterglow.

Harry rolls Louis’ hand over and starts kissing his palm and wrist. He feels Harry’s tongue lathing at and holding the pulse point at thumb side of his wrist. He can feel a direct energetic line from Harry’s mouth to Louis’ own heart and he’s buzzing.

“Gifts from the universe,” Lucy whispers between them as the crown chakra is activated.

"Soulmates,” he heard someone or something say and Louis is flying.  Harry is flying. In his third eye, he sees him and Harry holding hands facing each other spinning around the cosmos. He sees layers of light and dimensions and angels blessing them. They are beyond time and space, beyond the region of the summer stars where it’s all light and it’s all love and it’s all them.

The drumming and singing slowed down. The vibrations stop and he’s slowly coming back into his body. It’s a gentle landing and he’s getting a hand, literally, because his is placed on Harry’s heart, covered by Harry’s warm hand. Secure.

He looks at Harry and he looks so peaceful, he could almost be asleep.

“Wow, thank you so much for that magically powerful session,” Lucy whispers softly. The only responses from Harry are gentle snores.

Turning toward Louis, Michael asks “You two are really so connected. How long have you been together, if you don’t mind me asking? I’ve been doing this for a few years now and have never been a part of something so pure and powerful. I’m kind of in awe, to be honest. I want what you two have.”

Louis sits up and leans toward him, placing his hands at the sides of his mouth like he’s about to tell a secret, “It’s kind of complicated. We met last week. We aren’t together. We both have boyfriends.” Louis motions for Michael to come closer and whispers, “I’m actually his therapist.” Michael’s eyes get wider with each declaration.

“No fucking way!?!” Michael whisper-screams through the hands covering his mouth.

Louis starts laughing uncontrollably and Michael joins in, “Completely insane, right?”

“Harry? You sleeping Love?” Lucy nudges him. Harry grunts, gets up off the massage table and walks starkers across the room and crawls into his bed, rolls over and continues sleeping.

Louis gets up carefully, still not fully back on this planet. Cosmic sea legs. He wraps the blanket securely around himself and watches Lucy and Michael pack up their magic show.

“Let me give you some water, Love,” Lucy hands Louis a full container of his Love Yourself bottle. His brain is still in slo-mo and he misses the bottle and it spills all over his bed. “Fuck!” Louis shouts and he stares at the growing wet spot. He strips the bed and it is soaked through to the mattress.

“Sorry, Love, I’ll let them know you need more linens. I hope you two have an amazing time at the Kundalini Exploration retreat. Such a pleasure meeting you.”

Louis responds and bows to both Michael and Lucy, “You two are amazing. Thank  YOU for such powerful bodywork. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

“A lot depends on who you experience it with,” Lucy winks and points to a deeply sleeping Harry in the bed. “It’s the connection. You know that. All of that is out of our hands.”

He jumps up and gives them both a big hug. Namastes all around.

As the door closes, a nervous energy filled Louis’ body and he was at odds with what to do. A lot of lines were crossed today and he’s feeling the weight of Sunday night seep into his body. Berndt will require some sort of explanation.  Monday, he will probably have to talk to his adviser and transfer Harry to another graduate student psychologist. As he gazes into the future that awaits him, it circles back like hungry sharks waiting to eat him up. Fuck that.

He starts pacing the floor. Back and forth, polishing it with his thick guilt. He is now completely in his head and is starting to panic.

He feels Harry’s eyes on him and he turns around to see a sleep-mussed, cherubic cutie pie dimple angel with lifted sheets beckoning him to bed.

Louis’ heart leaps at the sight.

“Come to bed, Lou. Let’s have a lie in,” Harry motions softly with his head that it is time for Louis to join him.

He walks closer to the bed, “Harry, I really shouldn’t. I have commitments.” Two steps closer standing there staring Harry in the chest, “I’m sorry that’s just not professional.”

“Lou, just come to bed,” he opens the sheets further creating more of a deliberate opening, a little bit of chest hair peeking through. Louis stands there motionless. “You’re tired, I’m tired. Your bed is wet, mine is warm. You have a blanket on and I’m….I’m waiting for you.”

It’s like he’s having an out of body experience and then he drops his blanket on the floor and crawls into Harry's bed naked.  He lays on his back with the sheets ruched up to his waist a firm few feet away from Harry. He closes his eyes and several minutes pass like an eternity. He feels a warmth in his chest and breathes peace into it. When the warmth starts moving he realizes it was Harry’s hand rubbing soothing shapes and that Harry’s rolled to his side watching Louis.  

“Harry, what are you doing?” his voice slightly hesitant.

“Making sure you are still there,” Harry assures.

“Of course, I am here,” he looks quickly at Harry then his eyes refocus on the ceiling.

“I mean making sure you are still there in here,” he pats Louis’ heart and his fingers grazed a nipple. “That’s how I know you now.”

He checks in energetically and can feel the circuit from his body to Harry’s through Harry’s hand on his heart. It is so strong, it whisks him back to that cosmic heart space where everything was freedom, light and love.

Harry starts moaning again as the sensation becomes heightened.

Louis feels their energy fields hooking up and creating a beautiful web of protection and peace. Without being consciously aware of it, legs and arms are moving together, hands are being kissed and they are full on snuggling and moving together rhythmically on the bed. Each stroke of skin equals more enlightenment and ecstasy.

They’re both chasing the connection that grows stronger the more you stroke it.

Their bodies are undulating and moaning in a slightly offset rhythm building each other up.  If this bed was their oyster, their pearl bodies would be polished to a high lustre.

Then Harry took Louis’ hand to his mouth, tugging his ring finger down and slipping it through his plush lips and started sucking on it.

And it went straight to his dick like cupid’s electric arrow of euphoria. And he freaked.

“Harry you can’t do that!” pulling his finger from Harry’s grasp.

“Why Lou?” he said cradling Louis into a little spoon cuddle wrapping around him firmly grounding him to their connection.

“Because I love it,” he said truthfully and exhaled peace into his body.

“I love it, too,” Harry said nuzzling the back of Louis’ neck, dragging his nose through his hair sniffing as he ruffles it.

Louis broke the embrace laying on his back and scooting out of Harry’s arms.  “We just can’t,” he says stubbornly.

“Because we both love it?”

“Yeah,” Louis responded flatly and turned his head away from his bed mate.

“I’ve never felt this, this connection before, to anyone, in my entire life,” Harry responded kindly and gently tugged Louis' chin until they were facing each other again.

“Me, neither,” Louis resigned.

“Can I hold you, Lou?”

“Yes, Harry.”

Harry scoots over and wraps his arms around Louis and pulls him closer. Louis melts like butter and snuggles back into Harry making sure they are as close as possible. Harry rocks his pelvis into Louis’ backside seemingly as a reflex or a stretch and when Louis instinctively matches that movement Harry moans and pulls Louis’ hips back toward him stilling him by pressing Louis’ arse into his erection. “You can’t do that, Lou,” he hisses digging his fingers in as a warning.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to. Was more like an involuntary movement. Was just trying to get settled.”

“You are forgiven,” Harry kisses the back of Louis’ head.

“I know what we’ll do. You roll over,” he instructs motioning Harry’s shoulders.

He rolls Harry over and pulls him close, slipping a leg between Harry’s and adjusting the sheets to cover them. They move a bit to get settled, stretch and tweak the position until everything feels good, great in fact.

A few minutes pass and he can feel Harry’s breathing slow down again.  Louis edges up Harry’s backside scooting up to whisper in his ear, “Harry, I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Harry immediately rolls over facing him, wrapping his arms around Louis holding him close. “Why?” he asks with openly pleading eyes.

“Because you told me this bed was warm and dry but every time I move, I find myself in another wet spot.”

Harry’s body stills and his hands move up to capture the sides of Louis’ face. He looks him dead in the eyes, each word said very carefully, “Do you have any idea how badly I want to make love with you?”

“No. Tell me. Is it hard on you?” Louis Tomlinson, King of Sex Puns.

“Yes, very. It is very hard,” Harry says gripping Louis even harder.

“Tell me all about it, Harry.” He scoots a bit closer laying on his back, head leaning toward him like he’s all ears.

Harry rolls onto his side, capturing Louis’ lower body with his leg. His cock lays heavy and leaking on Louis’ hip. He places his hand firmly on Louis’ chest, possessively, then leans in, “It’s the simplest thing I can imagine and the most beautiful…”

“Awww, that’s beautiful Harry,” Louis teases.

“M’not done,” Harry drawls as Louis rolls the side of his hip into Harry’s dick as an enticement to keep going.

“I can imagine doing all kinds of things with you. If it were just a one-time thing, I’d never let you leave this bed.”

“Sounds serious. Like you’d fuck me until we ran out of food and water and died on this bed? On this wet, dirty bed?”

“You know what? You’re pretty sassy. Got quite the mouth. But, yes, if that’s what the situation called for, then I would suck and swallow the last drops of come out of you.”

Louis starts to protest and Harry quickly covers his mouth with his hand, silencing him. He feels Louis poking his hand with his tongue and that’s all the prompting he needed. He drops down to Louis’ ear and whispers quietly, “I hope that it would be good enough to somehow entice you to agree to more.” He licks and nibbles on Louis’ earlobe. Louis squirms beneath him and continues licking his palm.  “You are so beautiful, so breathtakingly, just indescribable and that’s not even talking about your body. You, your essence, what I saw today, what I felt. Felt like I was making love with you already. Your essence is what I crave.”

Louis squirms away from Harry’s hand. “Harry, pray tell, where would you find my essence?”

Mostly right here, and here, and here,” he says moving up the chakras. “But that’s what you call the subtle body, right?”

Louis nods, smart boy.

“I’d like to do some investigating but I think I’d find some of your essence here,” as he runs his fingers over Louis’ smiling lips. “I reckon, there’s a high concentration here,” as he hovers his hand over Louis’ crotch area above the sheets, licking Louis’ ear as he waves his hands over his dick eliciting more moans as he keeps licking. He stops and places on finger on Louis lips, like he is trying to shush him. “But, but the largest concentration of this essence, and I’d like to confirm, lies right at your sweet, love slick puckered arsehole.”

Louis moans deeply around the finger held firm on his mouth.

“I’d like to get my tongue in there and find out.”

Louis is rutting against the covers trying to get friction on his throbbing cock as Harry lathes his tongue around his ear. Lick lick licking it.

“Do you think I’d find something good down there?” Harry asks rhetorically. "Between your legs?"

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm”

“That’s a start then. I’ll lovingly put you on your hands and knees, spread your arse cheeks and lick all around your hole until I could find no more sweet spots, just lick and lick and lick with my hot tongue and stretch you and then smack your bum a little bit, leave some red marks there that are still stinging when I gently nibble you to distract you before I shove my tongue in and out, in and out, I know how much you’ll love that. I’ll bury my face in your buns until you are on the edge of what I’d hope would be at least your third orgasm of the day if it’s the weekend and then I’ll reach around and take a hold of your cock, your thick cock, begging for it and I won’t spit in my hand because that’s gross, but I will apply your favourite lube and stroke you off until your root chakra opens and you blast off.” He kisses Louis’ ear and strokes his cheeks.

Louis remains speechless as he continues, “And then I’ll be there to catch you when you come back down. Everything we do a reflection of our best selves. Everything loving. No fucking for you. Well, maybe if you wanted to fuck my face and splash some cum down my throat, then that would be ok. Otherwise, everything very lovingly, with care, kindness and respect. And connection.”

“That really was beautiful, Harry,” Louis says while, stroking his cheek and nuzzling his neck.   

“It’s the truth.”

“What else, Harry?” Louis teases.

“There’s a lot more, but I think I’d like it if you held me. I’m feeling kind of naked.”

“Of course. Come here, Love.” It’s out before he can stop it so he goes with it.  “You know what, scoot just a little bit to the left, come and lay on me a bit more fully. Yes that’s it, do you feel it?”

“Feels like electricity running up and down my body.”

“That’s your kundalini or ours since we kind of share that now. Remember those wheels of light you felt earlier. Don’t overthink it. Just relax and tell me what you feel.”

Harry moves around a bit to get comfortable.

“There. Sink into it,” Louis instructs and he can tell when Harry got it as their subtle bodies charged with light.

“That’s your heart, Lou. I can feel it.” Harry rests his head in the snuggle zone and rubs his head against Louis' neck and shoulder.

“Yours, too. That’s our heart connection. I can feel your heart in mine.”

Harry fully collapsed on top of Louis. What were deep breaths were becoming sobs. He holds him rubbing his hands over Harry’s back muscles.

“What’s the matter, Hazza?” though he knows the answer too well.

He just huffs a response.

“This whole situation is just fucked. It’s fucked up. I can’t believe that I meet you and have this that I never knew was even possible. This, just being with you, holding you, being held, sniffing your hair, looking into your eyes is ten thousand times better than any sex I can imagine having with anyone who’s not you.”

“Only ten thousand?” Louis quizzes, though the comment was flippant and unhelpful.

“I knew you’d say that.” He pushes off and sits up on Louis’ lap, fully exposed in the light of twilight, straddling him tickling his sides. “You’re so sassy and mouthy. I mean don’t you have any better uses for that mouth?”

“Well, maybe, let’s have a good look at ya. His eyes dart straight to Harry’s thick, heavy, cock.  “Ooooh, Lordy! That’s quite a penis you have there.” He takes a deep breath. “So do you have many stamps in your passport?”

“Whut?”

“If you say ten thousand times better than sex with other people, ‘m just kind of wondering about what kind of experiences you’ve had that makes doing mundane things with me so special.” Louis pauses, Harry is quiet, too. “For the record, I’m not disagreeing with you.”

“Well, one partner only and it was nothing like this,” Harry says flatly.

“How long have you been together?”

“Well, we’re not really. It’s just some kind of experimentation. He’s kind of an asshole. Proper dick. We just started hooking up in summer, so…”

“Wait, just a couple of months and you got pregnant?” Louis asks like he cannot believe his ears.

Harry nods.

“Holy shit, that’s nuts!” Louis' mouth is agape and he is speechless.

“I know. I’m still feeling kind of really fucked up about the whole thing.”

“Is he excited to be a dad?” Louis blurts out although he hates the other guy already and wants him out Harry's life, permanently.

“He doesn’t know yet. I haven’t been able to get a hold of him,” Harry’s voice breaks.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I texted him Monday night because things were weird and he said he was on a drive with his dad and then he wasn’t at school Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday, so no one knows but you and my mum—and half the hospital.”

“Well, it’s a good thing all my friends are therapists, so I can find you a good one,” Louis says matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean, find me a good one?” no ounce of humour in his voice.

“Harry, I, I, I can’t continue to work with you when I’ve seen your cock. There are strict laws about it. I guess we should have talked about it. I really didn’t see this coming.”

“I did," Harry says sadly.

“I did, too.”

“Can I have a hug?” Harry says reaching his arms out to Louis.

“Of course.”

“Let’s switch positions,” Harry suggests. “I want you right up here in the hot seat. I know that you won’t lie to me, so can I ask you some questions? About yourself?”

Louis stalls. “Harry, this is dangerous territory. I’m usually the one that asks the questions. How about I sit to the side, don’t want to smoosh your bump.”

“Comfort zone, remember?” he gazes down between Louis’ legs and licks his lips.   “When were you going to tell me about your boyfriend?”

“Oh, bloody hell, you go right for it,” shocked that he has been called the fuck out!

Harry smirks knowingly, “You are easy to read, remember? And I saw some things when we were getting our chakras tuned. I know you saw it, too.”

Louis squints leveling his gaze at the other man. “Enlighten me,” he challenges.

“When we were at the solar chakra, you were fighting it a bit. It looked like something you were trying to shake. Then you looked at me and you were free and happy. You chose in that moment. I could tell.”

“Harry this is getting heavy, deep and real,” Louis responded like he was having a very strange conversation with very real consequences.

“That’s what he said,” Harry blurted quickly.

“You’re so cute. Ya, so it’s really uhghghghg huh?”

“No, it’s beautiful and simple.”

“Under times of stress, the brain likes things that are familiar to it. He is just so familiar to me. We’ve been together eight years. It’s kind of messy on my end because he and I set mutual goals and then worked really hard to achieve them, but I find he’s just not there. He’s a hard guy to read.”

Harry, took Louis' cheeks into his hands, “Oh, yeah, maybe I should meet him and give you the inside scoop.”

“How about no?” Louis scolds. “Wanna hear something funny? I don’t have all the information, but the reason any of this is happening is because he doesn’t show up for things in our relationship. I booked this cabin, so he would have some space and privacy. He doesn’t like yoga or meditation or any of this stuff but I’ve felt so disconnected from him for so long now that it was kind of a make or break it thing for us, at least on my end. I asked him several times, left a flyer, emailed the info and he never said one way or the other, so I had this space held for you, I guess.”

“What does Zain think about him?” Harry asks like a professional psychotherapist.

“Holy shit, you are on it. Good memory, too. Zain is a special person, right, I mentioned that. He doesn’t do relationships and his sexuality is fluid and he might be asexual, and while that’s very private information, but I can trust you. In any case, he or she, depending on the day, looks at the situation from a bullshit-free, oneness perspective. He looks at the energetic truthiness behind the statements.”

“And?”

“He doesn’t give advice, just highlights areas where there’s things you’re attached to that fall out of alignment with your highest self. To translate, from a detached perspective, he says to torch it and blow kisses to the flames, essentially.”

“Blow kisses? What does that mean?” Harry asks sincerely while stroking Louis' low back and bum.

“Just like choose what is in your highest good. It’s not in your highest good to keep putting yourself in situations that are not aligned. He told me I was too pure to me mucking horseshit for fun. But since everything is oneness, based on what quantum physics tells us about reality, blowing kisses to it means that you love yourself and attach consciousness to the flames, too. Love the flames, means no blame, no bad feelings and resentment because you just end up hurting yourself and what’s the fun in that?”

“So, how’s the flame kissing going?” Harry asks softly while stroking his bed partner's upper thigh.

“I haven’t officially torched it, yet, but you’re right, in that moment, I did choose and I did move on. It was very liberating, to be honest.”

“If you chose, then can we kiss each other?” Harry moves his hands around Louis’ body pawing him like a hungry lynx.

“I’d love that, but you have choices to make, too. Do you want another therapist?”

Harry thinks on it for a few beats, “If you are asking me if I want a new therapist or a boyfriend, I choose new therapist every time.”

“I can’t say that I can offer you the boyfriend role. At this time. How do you feel about that? I mean, you’re seventeen, I’m twenty six. We are at different places in our lives. There’s just a lot of real world stuff that makes things hard.”

“Why do I feel like things are easy when we are just who we are and complex with all this other shit? How much of that stuff even matters?”

“I can’t answer it for you, Harry.”

“I’m asking you to answer for yourself,” Harry responds tersely, pointing the finger of truth straight into Louis’ chest.

This boy is putting him on the spot and he’s feeling exposed and a bit edgy under Harry’s scrutinizing eye, and let’s face it, there’s a whole body of truth bearing down on him. There’s nowhere to hide, so he’s going to run.  

“I think I need to take a piss and get something to drink.” He retrieves his spilt Love Yourself bottle and brings it to the bathroom. He sits down to piss but what he really needs to do is fart, so he tries to let it out quietly, but alas it’s a blaster. He tries to wait the stink out but he loves himself more than that, so he fills up the jug and heads out and nearly runs into Harry who is right next to the door.

He holds his hands up as a warning, “Oh, Harry, don’t go in there. I just passed some gas. I don’t want you to go in there yet.”

Harry just shakes his head and takes Louis’ hands into his, drawing him in, “You’re so mature. Worried about a fart.  Honestly, Lou. If it makes you feel better, I have to fart, too.”

“Ok, Mr. Brave, why don’t you rip one right now in front of me?” Louis challenges figuring Harry is so polite, there’s no way, he’d do it. He smiles smugly up to Harry like he’s already won the bet.

“Lou, I really just want to hold you,” he goes in for a squeeze, and predictably Louis melts like an ice cube in the sun sinking deep into Harry’s embrace. “Feels like home, Lou,” he kisses the top of Louis’ head and rubs his cheek is his hair.

And then the rotten stench hits him and he’s squirming around trying to get away from that stinker gagging and coughing, but Harry dominates his body keeping him in place, full on laughing. Farts are always funny. He worms his way out and takes a drink. He’s so thirsty, there’s something unquenchable about this day. He offers some to Harry from his bottle who takes it gratefully and chugs several large gulps.

He hands it back and Louis finishes the bottle. Harry gently places his hand on Louis’ throat to feel him swallow and it gives him shivers.

“See, we’ve already exchanged body fluids, there’s nothing to keep us from sealing the deal.”

“Are you always this charming?” Louis says nuzzling up rubbing his face on Harry’s upper torso, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his warm hands on Harry’s cool bum. He may have been a bit up on his tippie-toes, too, to bring their naked pelvises together for connection’s sake. He feels a spark strike both of them in the lower belly, and they’re riding the waves of kundalini rolling their pelvises together. The simplest touch keeps them reeling.

“Everything with you is easy, Lou,” he leans back to bring a bit of distance between their upper torsos and places his right hand on the back of Louis’ head cradling it and the left, receiving hand on Louis’ heart whose love energy pours right into his palm, the connection causing both of them to gasp out loud whilst rolling their pelvises in a loose figure eight, following the energy. They smile broadly at each other, then Louis closes his eyes and tilts his head following Harry’s lead and hears, “Now, kiss me you fool.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

“That was the best night of my life,” Harry rasped, squeezing Louis into a morning hug so tight they both start laughing.

“It’s always nighttime somewhere if you want a little more,”  Louis teases while kissing him on his lips, cheeks and forehead, “doesn’t have to end.”

He mouths at Louis’ neck and  beneath his jaw, the promise of a lovebite right at the surface, “Just want to feel you some more. I don’t feel like I am proficient with your body yet.”

“Oh, I think you’ve seen everything. Tasted everything,” raising his eyebrows knowingly followed by a kinky wink.

Punctuating his words with kisses, “I’ve tasted your lips, your tears and your come. You haven’t let me taste back here,” swiping a finger lightly over Louis’ arse crack.

“Let’s save some things,” Louis demurs, his cheeks are on fire and he’s feeling giddy.

“Hey, do you want to take a shower?”   

“Yeah, sure.”

“With me?”

“Ohhhh, ok. You know, I’d love to. I kind of need to, ummmm,” Louis draws his lips in a straight line and grumbles and tilts his head toward the bathroom.

“Me, too. Don’t worry. Let’s get comfortable with all this stuff. I do everything you do, you just look much sexier doing it even if it’s pinching a loaf.”

Louis got up and headed into the restroom.  He sat down on the potty and did his morning business. Washed his hands and found Harry naked, leaning over into his duffel bag as he exited. _What a beautiful sight you are._

“Don’t move, k?” he slides behind Harry, spreads his butt cheeks and takes a big whiff of his arse. “Now, I know you.” _You smell like home._  He gives him a pat on his bum and watches it jiggle. He leans in and bites him on his bum causing Harry to startle with pain.

“Would probably be better after the shower….” Harry says hesitantly.

“Nope,” he opens Harry back up again, burying his nose in Harry’s arse, tonguing the perineum, lapping at the base of the balls. The scent of Harry’s essence shooting straight to Louis’ cock. He moans and takes his cock into his hands, stroking it slowly. Then he squeezes Harry’s buns with both hands. “Perfectly ripe. He spreads Harry’s cheeks further and uses his cheek to hold it open while licking Harry’s arse hole. He hums a bit in between licking fat wet stripes along the cleft, “and juicy.”

“Lou, can this wait until after the shower? I’m feeling self-conscious. I need to you-know-what and your face is down there and it feels so good but I really gotta ….”

“Sure, honey, there’s no pressure. Go take a dump and let me know when you are ready for me,” he smacks Harry on the bum for good measure.

“This could be the most awkward conversation, I’ve ever had but with you, it feels normal. I really like that,” with that he hustles off to the bathroom with his toiletries.

5 minutes later, the door opens and the shower steam billows out beckoning him in.

Louis enters and finds Harry sitting on the edge of the tub, staring at him like a Buckingham Palace sentry.

“What are you doing, Haz?”

“Blow toll.”

“Wooooo,” Louis’ eyes get wide as Harry pulls him closer, firm grip on his hips. Louis leans on the shower wall for support, his knees buckling already. Harry looks up at Louis while sucking his dick, one hand lightly juggling his balls. Louis’ head falls back, his hand in Harry’s hair just as he’s imagined, “You are so good. So good to me, Harry. So good.”

Harry backs away, letting Louis’ cock fall from his mouth dramatically. He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, “You may enter.”

Louis steps in and extends his hands to Harry drawing him in and then pulling him into a loving embrace. Water pelting them like blessings from heaven.

Harry tilts his head, leans down a bit and invites Louis to join him in a kiss. After a few moments, it gets deeper and they both feel the connection, like ecstatic energy move through their bodies that is plugged in and maintained through tongue on tongue contact. Electric bliss flowing through their bodies like a celestial current.

“Everything feels like making love,” Harry puts a hand on his heart and one on Louis’. Connected.

Louis reaches down between Harry’s legs and takes a hold of his sizeable cock, stroking it while gazing deep into Harry’s eyes, his own body an invitation to explore.

“I want you to come on my face,” Louis says leaning into Harry’s space.

“Soon,” he promised soothingly, “Wanna make you feel good,” Harry reaches down and jerks them both off using creamy body wash to ease the friction. They hold each other in the afterglow humming and mewling. “I can’t wait until we have some lube,” Harry says as he washes the last of the soapy come off of hands.

“Only in my wildest dreams would I imagine this happening and I mean that honestly,” he squeezes Harry’s little love handles and rubs and kisses his baby belly. Then he bends further down and plants a big kiss on the foreskin covering Harry’s penis, “So was not prepared.”

“Lou, what should we do with …” motioning between them.

“Well, Harry, the only sensible thing to do is to move into this cabin and change our numbers.”

“I’m in.”

“Can I wash your hair?”

“Sure Superman.”

“Oh, fuck, you did hear me then? We should talk about that someday,” Louis looks away, a bit of embarrassment striking him like a fist to the solar plexus.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Harry teases and hands him the shampoo.

They hold each other until the water runs cool. When the heat from their mouths was not enough to fend off the shivers, they toweled each other off and warmed up using their body heat instead.

.........

 

They agree on some events to do together and head out the door to breakfast.

“Lou, can I hold your hand?” Harry asks kindly as he reaches cautiously toward Louis.

“Sure, Harry,” he extends his hand, clasping Harry’s and pulls him into a walking smooch nearly knocking dear Harry off balance.

With balance restored, they both draw a deep breath and smile sheepishly at each other.

They run into Sylvie at breakfast and Louis introduces Harry to her. With a chuckle and a knowing smile, she says, “Oh, I see you really hit it off. I sensed some energetic compatibility between you two. Another Kundalini Exploration love story. Namaste, you hot shaktis.”

They choose some vittles and head to the morning yoga class, then a healing touch class and finally a class on intuitive body reading. Essentially, they spent the day together in each other’s space in pure bliss.

How does it get any better, really?

Hot springs soak. Louis stripped into his pants and Harry wasn’t wearing any, so they cuddle together in warm healing waters under the trees in the afternoon sun. He recalls having this vision when booking the retreat, holding hands and cuddling. Life is truly amazing.

 

Maximum relaxation is taking over his body with natural springs bubbling beneath his feet, sitting squarely between Harry’s legs, his head lolling on Harry’s neck –shoulder nuzzle zone. Harry’s rubbing sweet strokes on his body and kissing his face and nibbling on his neck. The sun is starting to go down. Camp is about to close.

Harry is marking him. FUCK!!

Panic! He feels his heart rate jump and he becomes tense and jittery. The light at the end of the tunnel is a train barreling toward him and he sees his future wrought in destruction.

“Lou, you’re freaking out.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye to you, Harry.” The tears flow along with a lot of snot, “I don’t know how this is going to work. I feel like I’m fucking my life up right now.”

“I’m seventeen, pregnant, alone, my therapist is dumping me, the man I want has a longterm boyfriend, a domestic partner even. And I’m falling in love with you, so…”

“Harry, let’s just get a hotel room for the night. I can’t let you go. Don’t want to.” They hold each other like their lives depend on it.


	11. Chapter 11

Monday morning came and the fractured pane that was Louis’ life began to splinter. Every lens distorted, his perspective a vibrating astigmatism. His brain makes as much sense as when he accidentally ate some mushrooms after smoking pot and taking tequila shots at a music festival. Not good times. The only consolation was that he stopped for lube and Harry allowed him to mark his body wherever he wanted and he came on Harry’s fingers twice and he ate Harry out in the shower. Blowhole toll. Also, Louis took a shit while Harry was in the shower, then joined him. #properdomestic. Other than that, complete disaster.

His brain doesn’t feel safe to drive and his body feels unknown to him. In spite of everything saying, ‘Wait, what the fuck?’ he made a beeline to the university and went straight to his adviser’s office. It was ajar, he knocked and was invited in.

“Hello, Louis, how are you?” Dr. Phillips called out a bit cautiously.

Louis groaned and put his head in hands and began to cry.

“Come here, son. I know it must be so hard for you, with Berndt.” Louis shakes his head and began to sob.

“You know, you can go with him if you want and complete your dissertation in Germany.”

“What?!” he asks a bit too loud, a bit of demand in his tone.

“You’ve satisfied all of your teaching requirements and case management. If you wanted, you could go to Germany with Berndt and come back to present your dissertation when you are ready. The university is understanding when it comes to splitting up families. It’s a lot of stress and we can make accommodations when needed.”

Louis stares ahead stunned. Face blank, except for the obvious shock.

“Is that something you would like? I can have the secretary prepare some information for you,” he offers gently.

“Dr. Phillips, I have no idea what you are talking about. Why do you say Berndt left? I feel like I’m in an alternate reality,” Louis shakes his head but nothing clears.

“Son, I’m not sure what to say. I received an email from Berndt and found a cordial gift in my mailbox this morning thanking me for accommodating his move back home. Are you telling me that you did not know this because as his partner I would expect you’d be the first to know.”

Louis’ brain was scrambled and he bolted.

He floored it home and when he arrived, sure enough Berndt was gone. All of his belongings gone. He surveyed the flat: desk gone, books gone, various kitchenware gone, clothing gone, artwork gone. Everything that was Berndt’s alone was gone. Some of the things they bought together were left behind, except the nice sofa, Berndt took that.  The guest bed was gone as well and the extra desk. He quickly checked his baby stash and it looked untouched. _Better not, you mother fucker._

At second glance, he noted that the small, shitty guest bed was put into their, now his, bedroom. _He even took our bed that fucking arsehole. No overnight guests for me. Depressing._

The nice kitchen table was gone and the rickety foldable one they used for parties was in its place. On it a note with a cheque.

Louis,

I am sorry for you to come home to your flat like this. I had to return to Kiel, my father is sick and my mother needs help.

I’m planning on being home for at least 6 months and then returning for oral remarks. Depending on how he is doing I don’t know whether I will stay there or move back. I wanted to take my stuff in case you needed to move or do something different to take care of yourself.

I’ve left a cheque for my portion of the next 4 month’s rent and some extras as some things will need to be replaced.

This puts us in a difficult position. I’ve really learned a lot from being with you and respect your mind tremendously. It’s probably best for me to take a break from our relationship at this time with the distance and family stress.

Best,

B

And please forward any mail to my family’s address. I will make sure you are reimbursed for postage. Danke sehr.

“FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!” “You FUCKING bastard!!!!!”


	12. Chapter 12

He spends the next three days drunk on honey wine that was left over from St. Patrick’s Day. Crying and sifting through pictures. Everything in this place has a memory tied to his boyfriend that just upped and fucking left him. He gives approximately two shits about Berndt’s ailing father and lays in bed feeling sorry for himself.

He misses Harry but can’t seem to pierce the shroud of depression and worthlessness smothering him.  Everything feels heavy, stupid and a waste of time. His vitality providing the bare minimum for survival. So he just lays there and cries. Sometimes he cries in the bath tub with his wine.

He asked the department secretary to cancel all of his appointments and goes in to teach his Thursday and Friday classes and then GTFOs. Too many eyes with too many questioning looks. He has no answers and his ‘This is a shitty way of breaking up with me. Real mature’ text went unanswered for some reason.

Sitting in his empty, dusty, less than half-furnished apartment, he realizes he feels like a spectator observing his life implode. He has no energy or desire to participate at all, so he tosses some stray pillows on the floor, lays down and cries for love lost, goals unattained, unmatched commitments and wasted time. They could have had it all, but for some reason Louis wasn’t worth fighting for. It’s a fucked up feeling being left behind. He didn’t even give Louis a choice or the opportunity to talk about it.

This is his first boyfriend, so he’s devastated. Sifting through those feelings feels like lobbing rank piles of shit with jagged spikes onto his heart. Everything cuts, deeply and he’s bled past the point of emotional anemia.

He texts Harry asking for a little space. Follow up phone calls go unanswered and Louis can’t bring himself to listen to the voice messages. They keep piling up imposing a sense of insurmountability in his system like a child who is terrified to turn off the light due to a fear of a monster in the closet.

Harry is so persistent, but if he knew what a piece of shit Louis actually was, he would do best to run, not walk to the nearest exit, pregnant men and children first.   _Save yourself, Harry._

Even though Harry is Harry meaning one of the most beautiful souls he’s ever encountered, he can’t risk not being enough for someone so special. Harry deserves so much more than whatever worthless partner Louis became over time. He sits and thinks about where things went wrong;--where he’s fucked up and not done enough to secure Berndt’s heart. Deep seated distrust about himself eats like acid at his bones, making every extension into viewing his future self, brittle and unable to bear the weight of life.

Flaws upon flaws upon flaws. He’s picking himself apart and ends up feeling like a loser.

He can’t go through this again, so he lays on the floor and waits for time to pass; it’s the greatest healer after all.

He does what he has to do. He fires up his computer and drafts a letter to Dr. Phillips and requests that Harry be transferred.

.........

When he saw the number, his being sank. He answered at the last ring before knowing it would go to voicemail and the thought of having to deal with it later was even more awful.

He sucks up some energy, though his voice is shaky, “Hello Dr. Phillips. Good day.”

“Louis, how are you?”

“Holding up,” he lies, voice betraying him.

“Ok, I’m calling to follow up with you about transferring your case. There was no explanation given and I want to see if there’s more information I need from you before reassigning him.” Louis grunts in assent. “Can you tell me a bit about him? And about any issues with the case?”

“He’s a seventeen year old who is pregnant. Needs social support. Very bright. Extremely kind-hearted.” _Best person alive._

“That’s fascinating. You know he would make an excellent research subject for your dissertation. It’s so unusual. There’s so much to be explored and you would be our best clinician for this.  Can you imagine the contribution you could make to the scientific community sharing his journey through psychotherapy? We could probably even bring in some more funding for your other projects, too, to support you dedicating time to this. I recall you being less than enthusiastic about your current subject. Correct me if I am mistaken.”

“No, you are right.”

“Can you tell me why you would like to transfer him. “

“Honestly, we have a very strong connection,” he tells it like it is before he mouth betrays his heart.

“That’s wonderful. That’s what you want. That is why you will be so successful in your career,” Dr. Phillips hesitates a bit before asking, “What’s the problem?”

“Truthfully, I’m quite attracted to him and have never been in this situation before. I sense that it is mutual.  I just don’t want to put myself in a situation where I could be unprofessional and do harm to him.”

Dr. Phillips laughs out loud at this confession. “Louis, you are young and dynamic. You’re attractive and have a joie de vivre. With you, it’s going to happen many times over. You will have many patients develop feelings for you. Sublimation, transference. This thing happens all the time as psychotherapy is inherently intimate. Since it is your first time experiencing this as a clinician, then it’s ideal to let it be in a supportive university environment. You can come and talk to me about it and we can navigate those tricky roads together. Have you heard the expression, Trial by fire? You just have to throw yourself into it.   It’s part of being a skilled doctor to know how to handle yourself. Without stress, we don’t grow. You’ll know when to pull out.”

Louis laughs internally at the innuendo and composes himself before continuing, “Can you give him the option of choosing someone else?  We can say that whoever you assign is a back-up therapist. We do that sometimes, apply a team model.”

“If it makes you more comfortable, we can assign someone. But I hope you reconsider. With this type of case, you could offer the most support. I wouldn’t want to deprive him of your expertise, and compassion.”

“Ok, I’ll think about it,” Louis responds non-committally.

He pauses, then with a bit of weight in his voice, “Also, if you do choose to submit this case for the Fellowship award, there’s a more than decent chance you could get it. There’s only one other person who has applied and I think you know who that is. You two are the most driven grad students we have right now. The prize is 15,000 pounds, publication in _British Journal of Clinical Psychology_ and it looks strong on a CV for your postdoc and beyond.”

“We broke up.”

“I heard through the grapevine. I’m sorry to hear that.”

_Revenge is best served cold._

..........

It’s 4:30 and Louis’ skin feels on fire and somewhat contradictorily, every part of his body feels cold and moist.  There’s not enough air in the room. The walls are creeping closer and closer. He gazes down at his disobedient hands and wills them to still. Not even his body respects his wishes right now.

“Louis, are you alright over there? You’re so jumpy and look really—”

“I’m not, but I’m fine,” he clipped, “Have you reviewed Harry’s file?” fingers tapping on the desk he’s sitting on.

“You’ve seen him twice and once wasn’t even very official, so I think I have a grasp on things. Why are you so edgy?”

Louis busies himself with his phone and closes off any conversation attempts from the other man.

A few minutes later, Harry enters the counseling office looking very happy upon seeing Louis but he quickly morphs from confused to fucking irritable upon seeing that Louis was not alone. He looks like he knows he’s been set up and his face is pure frowny, green eyes piercing through Louis’ sad ass, hollow soul.

Harry is such a vision, goddamn. He’s sexy as a Gucci model dressed down in his Nike pants and hoodie. Clearly aware that he’s sunk to the 6th layer of Dante’s Inferno, he strips himself of his warm covering revealing a boyfriend cut band shirt. Fading purple and yellow marks still visible under his arms and at the dip in his collarbones where Louis made him howl, laying claim to his body with each stroke and suck. The snapback adds a bit of ruggedness that makes Louis want to push him over the table and fuck him on the spot.  Fuck him into oblivion.

On second thought, Louis’d like to be stretched out a bit. He feels the drool pooling in his mouth and his body tingle. Harry brings out the animal in him, fo sho.

Since emotional composure is not available to him, he uses his voice to portray some semblance of professionalism. “Hello, Harry. Thank you for joining us. I take it Dr. Phillips explained how this is going to work from here on out. This is Oliver and he will be joining our team in managing your case.”

Glaciers of crystal clear Go Fuck Yourself are the only response from Harry’s eyes.

“Hi Harry, you can call me Oli. From time to time we team up on interesting cases like yours so we can make sure you get the best therapeutic options available.”

“I didn’t agree to this. And I’m not a case, damn!” he responds irritably. “What would you offer me, Oli, that he can’t?” pointing his finger at Louis.

“My focus is on family relations and I offer cognitive behavior techniques to change the way you are relating to a situation by looking at the emotions and other things you can control.”

“I don’t need that,” Harry responds sharply leaving no room for discussion.

“That’s where you rely on our clinical judgment,” Oli retorts with a sharp, patronizing tone, “It’s seems like you might really need it given what’s going on in your life.”

Harry rolls his eyes a bit, takes a shallow breath and faces Louis, “Can I talk to you alone?”

“So you know, anything you discuss even in private becomes a matter of your record, that’s our policy,” Oli said with authority as if he were in some true crime show.

Without hesitation, he responds with attitude with accompanying finger and head gestures, “Ok, then put this in there. I’m not your research monkey. This is bullcrap,” and points his finger directly at Oli, “and fuck you.” He gets up quickly and turns his body to Louis, “Goodbye, Lou and you know what, fuck you too,” he grabs his hoodie and storms out.

“Jesus, what’s up his arse?” Oli snapped, his eyes trained on the door, struck with total disbelief at what just transpired.

“A baby.”

 .......

The swell of torment and guilt breech and Louis high tails it out of the counseling office. A flood of tears imminent and he’s too weak to suppress his emotions today. He goes to his quiet spot on the far side of the chemistry building and lays face down on the grass; its wetness seeping quickly through his trousers and jumper. He pulls out a magazine to make it look like he is reading, but anyone can see he’s a curled up ball of human nature disguised as human wreckage.

_Maybe I should make a list of everything good in my life so I can be sure to fuck every single thing up._

Rain drops lightly fall on his body and he debates moving but part of him welcomes the pneumonia and illness is no less than he deserves. _Maybe I’ll just disintegrate here like the other piles of shit people didn’t care enough to pick up._

What’s time to the dead? He lays there heart broken and failing. Surely the grim reaper should come for him if enough time passes. He decides to wait it out prostrate and shaking, cold biting him to the bone.

He focuses on generating enough static in his mind to drown out any thoughts that might be coming to the surface. Any emotion that bubbles up gets a stake driven through its heart. _Not today._ The rain has now thoroughly soaked him and embracing the cold brings him closer to death, so he surrenders and goes with it. He closes his eyes and allows time to pass without care for anything else but ceasing the pain gripping his heart.

“Lou, hun, I brought you,” Harry nudges him and forces a warm cup in his cold, shivering hand. Still face down, he cries even harder. He hears the crackly pops of Harry’s knees as he squats down next to him. Then a hand drags along his back while another wipes rain from his hair. “Hun, you have to get up. This is, this is not good. You’re going to get sick.”

“Don’t care,” he forces out and continues crying, shoulders heaving and shaking.

“I do. I care. C’mon Lou, will you at least come out of the rain? Just sit up, please.” He has both hands on Louis’ side pushing and pulling trying to gather up momentum to log roll him off of his stomach. “Louis, get up. Do you want me to lift you up? Or drag you by your feet? Someone is going to call the police. This looks weird. Get up. Now.”  

“Harry, please leave,” he warns with a bit of bite.

“No. You get up, you stubborn arse,” he demands while clapping a few times near Louis’ head causing him to startle.

“Harry, please, just go. You shouldn’t waste your time with me, honestly,” Louis pleads with as sincere a tone as he could muster.

“Don’t talk to me like that, damn! You need to listen to me. Get up, I swear to god,” Harry commands, nudging him roughly.

“Louis, what in the actual fuck are you doing right now?” spoke a deep voice preceded by a smoky scent.

“Zain, you fuck off, too,” Louis calls out with his face in the grass.

“Hi Zain, I’m Harry. I’ve heard many nice things about you,” he says reaching up to Zain offering his hand.

“Likewise, bro.”

He buries his face even more in the grass like he was a human earthworm.

“Bro, you have two options. One you can get up right now or two, you can get a tickle tag team,” Zain warns serious as a heart attack.

They don’t wait for an answer before attacking him with fingers in his sides and neck, his body writhing, shrieks and pleas begging them to stop.

Louis sits up putting his hands out as a warning against further tickles. Harry can’t resist and goes in for his belly causing Louis to yelp and laugh. Louis sets the cuppa down and launches back at Harry, hands and elbows flying, a tickle party for two.

After they are both breathless and on their knees panting at each other they embrace like long-lost shipwrecked lovers reuniting on a deserted island.

“Harry, I am so sorry. About earlier. I just…” he buries his heads in his hands, tears underscoring the shame.

“Lou, come here, please?” holding out his arms, “let me hold you.” He pulls him up to his feet, wrapping him up, pushing all parts of their fronts together for maximal grounding.

“I’m a piece of shit, Harry. I really am. I am such a mess right now. You should forget about me and walk away.” Louis pulls back against Harry’s grip on him as it tightens, “For your own good.”

“No and you can help me by not saying those things. About yourself.”

“I’m so fucked up,” he confesses quietly in Harry’s chest.

“Life is messy, babe,” he rubs his cheek against the side of Louis’ head. “Just let me hold you. And let me care for you.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m rubbish.”

“Not true. I’ll stand here until you take it back.” Louis squirms in his embrace for a few seconds and then falls deeper into it, pressing his head into the crook of Harry’s neck. “You’ll have to piss sometime. M’not letting go,” pressing kisses onto Louis’ drenched head.

“Lovebirds, sorry to interrupt,” Zain breaks into their bubble, placing one hand on each of their shoulders.  “Tommo, text me when you are ready for company. So nice to meet you Harry.” Zain leans in and plants a chaste kiss on Louis’ cheek and walks away.

Harry immediately wiped the kiss off, “Mine. Here let me replace it,” as he loads Louis’ cheeks and face up with kisses. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“You have to share me with Zain,” Louis teases.

Harry leans back slightly, “I’m not sharing you with anyone, anymore,” positioning his face to look directly at Louis as he looks up. Harry’s hand cups his jaw and thumbs at Louis’ bottom lips, “Just let me love on you and quit being such a prat.”

Louis attempts to stammer out a protest but Harry quickly shuts him up with his lips. Sweet, sweet kisses, connection surging between that was built up like an unkinked water hose.

Five kisses turns into fifty and by the time they come up for air, they’re both soaked to the core and shivering.

“G’night Lou. Nice meeting you, Harry,” Oli calls back as he walks by already twenty paces ahead of the duo.

“Oh fuck,” they utter in unison. A seed of dread plants deep in Louis’ chest and he flops back into Harry’s arms attempting to shield himself from the visions displaying themselves in his mind: losing credibility, anger and disappointment from Dr. Phillips and the whole nosy psych program. Is he throwing everything away for Harry?

“C’mon let’s get out of the rain. My mum’s about to pick me up soon, so I need to start walking back to the lot.”

They walk together, heads down, shielding their faces from the pouring rain, shoulders bumping down the path toward the psych building’s parking lot. It’s a seven minute walk or so filled mostly with companionable silence and a bit of promise.

Louis tugs on his arm and leads him down a corridor in the Music department. Horns bleating and drums pounding in the background accompany the pounding in his chest.

Louis braces Harry’s shoulders and looks into his eyes apologetically, “Harry, I’m so sorry about today. So much has happened since I saw you last and I don’t even know how to feel,” moving in closer, “Not about you,” he adds quickly, stroking Harry’s gorgeous cheeks, a dimple threatening to peek through. “But also about you,” he adds quietly. “It’s mostly me,” he snuffs, tears welling up in his eyes. The rain must have rehydrated his tear supply because they are flowing steady again. “You’re the light, Harry and I’m the cyclone of shit.”

“Isn't that being too generous?” Harry adds cautiously with a gentle smile, his eyes trained on Louis for a reaction.

“Probably,” his smile not quite making it to his eyes and his face quickly falls back into a solemn expression, “It’s just, my life is a mess right now and I’m not doing very well. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“I know you and Berndt broke up,” he says quietly, stroking Louis’ cheek, kissing it and drawing him in closer.

“You are quite perceptive aren’t you?” he said to Harry’s wet chest, snuggling it.

Harry steps back a smidge, putting a little distance between them so he can look Louis in the face when he confesses, “Quite, but your mum told me today during our visit. Damn it, I wasn’t supposed to mention it.” He groans and balls up his fists. “Shit!” he says, cursing his own candor.  “Please don’t say anything to her. I don’t know any details. Shit, I’m such an idiot. I just can’t keep anything from you.” He leans in and places his index finger on Louis’ lips. “And before you ask, I met your mum today. She is a very lovely woman. The loveliest even. It just came up in conversation that you were sad and I asked why and she said you and your partner split—and that she wanted me to be extra sweet to you because you’re her baby and she loves you.  She trusted me with the info and told me in confidence and I said I would let you tell me yourself and I blew it.”

Louis giggles and shakes his head at Harry. What will he do with this boy?

“Also, I am sorry for storming out earlier. I just got fucking pissed. And that Oli guy is kind of a dickhead, right? And I’m like ‘fuck this guy!’”

“Don’t worry Harry, you’ll never have to fuck Oli,” he assures him with a lopsided smile and a wink.

“I just want you, Lou. For everything.” Harry puts his hands possessively on Louis’ hips and pulls him in.

“Everything’s a lot of things, Harry,” he says wistfully, kissing his cheeks then sliding his tongue into the shell of Harry’s ear, suckling at the lobe. “Can I give you one more kiss before you go?” Harry nods and slides up his wet jumper and tank top, exposing his belly and chest. Louis surveys his options with his hands and leans in biting and sucking just left of the right nipple eliciting porn-proficient moans. He pulls off and inspects his work, then leans in to seal it with a kiss and gives Harry’s fattening dick a quick squeeze through his sagging trackies and tugs his arms to head out of the building.

Harry stops, forcing Louis’ steps to stutter, “When can I see you, Lou?”

Louis looks up at him with dread in his eyes and closes them in defeat.

“I know you need your space, but please don’t shut me out totally," Harry pleads sincerely.

“Gosh, Harry, I really don’t know?” he says shrugging. “My place is unfurnished now, basically. I have to teach classes both weekend days to make up for my sub so I could go to the retreat…with you.”

“How about Sunday afternoon? We could go furniture shopping?” he suggests.

“I hate shopping.”

“I love it and know some great places in Stockport. It can be fun. If you let it.”

Louis scrunches up his face, clearly mulling it over even a touch melodramatically, then smiles, “How could I ever say no to you?”

“Ok, I’ll make you some lunch, too. Can I pick you up at 1?”

“Can you make it a little earlier? Say 11? I want to spend more time with you. We can talk and have a stressless day.”

“Of course, Lou.  Text me your address later. Hey, do you want to meet my mum? I should scoot, she’s been waiting at least 20 minutes. She’s probably reading or something, but still…I should go.”

Louis looks at himself, waterlogged and skin mottled. He shrugs, “I’d love to, but maybe not today. I look wrecked, feel kinda wrecked. I’ve cried more this week than I have in my whole life.”

“Ok, soon though.”

Louis nods in assent and with a lingering kiss, they part ways.


	13. Chapter 13

Harry left school early to deal with his medical appointments.

“Birthing Naturally. This is it, mum.” He follows the sign with his head as the car turns into the lot. He’s feeling quite excited to meet Louis’ mum and find out about midwifery care. From what he was able to learn from her website, it looks like the way he wants to go. She had photos of happy families holding their babies in the family bed sometimes surrounded by siblings, birth tub in the background. Everything seemed very holistic and safe.

The office is serene with low lighting, soft music and baby magazines on the coffee table. “Gosh, mum, this is so much nicer than Doctor Carter’s office. Felt so sterile and cold. He was kind of creepy, too with his cold hands. Yuck.”

“He wasn’t the friendliest chap either. We’ll see. I think it is best to keep an open mind.”

He hears the door open and he cranes his neck to see a couple coming down the hall with a toddler. The man supports his very pregnant partner, holding her arm and purse as she waddles toward the waiting area while the toddler bounces ahead who is a pint sized version of Tigger. The couple turns and a woman with long, sandy brown hair and motherly curves embraces them both wishing them well. “The next time we see one another, I reckon it will be on your baby’s birthday. Try to stay off of your feet and enjoy these last few days as a trio.” With another hug and cheek kisses and a squeeze for the excited toddler, they were off.

She looked toward Harry and his mum with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hello, you must be Harry. And Anne, correct?”

“Yes, yes,” they answered in unison, looking up at her with matching Styles smiles and kind eyes.

“I’m Johannah Deakin, but I prefer to go by Jay. I’m so so pleased to meet you. Would you like a cup of tea or some water before we go on back and get settled?”

“I’d love a cup of water,” Harry smiled.

“Me, too, Jay. That’s really thoughtful. Thank you,” Anne beamed appreciatively.

She came back with two glasses and nodded for them to follow her back.

The office felt like a living room of a loving home. There were developmentally-rich toys for the kids, a comfy love seat, a bean bag piled with stuffed animals, a soft crocheted blanket and beautiful art on the walls depicting women, families, babies and birth.  

As he was making his way to the overstuffed loveseat, he noted there were book shelves loaded with books about birth and parenting. One thing caught his eye and he walked straight over to it and picked it up.  _Ah, so those are the twins, and more twins and two daughters and my love. My love, my love._ He physically restrained himself from hugging and kissing the framed photograph, but in his mind any time he sees (or thinks of) Louis his heart fills reflexively and lips pucker up—and his body feels light.

The beam in his eyes must have caught Jay’s attention because she walked over to him, leaned in close and named her family members, telling a little bit about each of them.  “They were all born at home, with the exception of the twins. And with them, I had my personal midwife at the hospital with me so I felt safe. Even though I am a midwife and I do deliver babies in the hospital when necessary, I just wanted to have my trusted midwife to make sure I was in the best possible situation and for emotional support, honestly.”

He turns to her, looking her right in the eye so there’s no doubt he’s sincere, “Your family is truly beautiful, Mrs. Deakin. You must be so proud.”

“Children are an amazing gift and parenting is, I believe, one of the best things you can do in the world—and for the world. Raising children in a house of love with lots of attention and affection is so fulfilling. I mean, can you imagine how much better the world would be if people heard ‘I love you’, ‘You’re a blessing’, ‘I’m so grateful for you’ on a regular basis? I’ve always loved babies and wanted to have a large family. Sometimes it is pure chaos and mess, but it’s totally worth it when they crawl up in your lap and give you kisses and say ‘I love you, mama’. You get to watch them grow up and become beautiful human beings. Being a parent makes me happy to be alive.”

“I hope I feel like that when this baby comes. I’ve been reading mummy blogs and seems people talk about how hard it is and that they don’t get any sleep. That doesn’t sound like much fun to me. And the nappies and back pain. I’m kind of worried about all of that stuff,” he looks downcast and wrings his hands in his lap.

“It’s important to have a great team around you. You need support. You can’t do it alone. You could, but it is very difficult. I’m sure your mum will be there for you, too. Anne, how do you feel about Harry having a baby in the house?”

“We’re still in a state of shock, but I’ll be there to support him. I’ve always wanted to be a nana, but wasn’t expecting to be one for a long time, so, this is all kind of a big surprise.”

“I can imagine,” she looks between them assessing their stressed looks and offers a smile. “Let’s sit down and talk a bit more. I want to answer all of your questions and get to know more about you and your plans.”

Harry handed her his paperwork. She scans it and her eyes got wide, “You were referred by Doctor Tomlinson?”

“Yes, ma’am, your son. He highly recommended you,” Harry feels his face taking on his ‘I love Louis’ smile and hearts in his eyes and quickly makes it more neutral,  “And he said that you had someone like me?”

“You know my son?!” she said with glee. “I hope I don’t embarrass him by telling you this but, I was hoping he would become a midwife or a birth provider of some sort. He’s a healer and so good with people in stressful situations, knows just what to say to put them at ease. He had this one move that my laboring clients loved. He was able to soothe them by rubbing their head and stroking their hair. I watched them go from distress to relaxation in no time with Louis at their side,” her eyes drift off to happy past times and her smile is that of a proud, loving mum.

“That sounds heavenly. He is quite special,” he looks right in her eyes so he can transmit his honesty directly. She meets his eyes, opens her own self up and they connect on a deep level briefly. Harry worries that he is perhaps showing too much and looks away.

She nods, “I guess it makes sense he went into the psychology field, but when he was younger he came with me everywhere.  His dad wasn’t around unfortunately, so Louis and I were a team. I kept jammies, books and a sleeping bag in the boot of my car for him along with my birthing supplies for those late night deliveries. He would attend visits like these, births, post-partum checks, everything. The families got used to seeing him for our regular visits; he was just part of the birth team. He would get so excited when the babies were born and loved to hold them just like a proud big brother. He would sing to the babies when they were fussy and they would calm right down, if they weren’t hungry. He would make up lullabies with the baby’s name, too. The babies would look up like they knew it was a song just for them. It was so cute. He’s still so clucky and has already started gathering stuff. I’m probably saying too much, but I‘m just so impressed with him and can’t wait until he makes me a nana.”

“Any plans for that?” Anne asks. Things have already taken on a personal tone, so she decides to jump in as well.

“Says the plan is degree first, then family. I’m excited to see him as a dad. Ahhh, I can’t stop talking about him. In 25 years, Harry, you’ll come back to visit me with your child and you’ll be gushing, too, I guarantee it. I can tell just by looking at you that you will be a very loving parent,” she said reaching out and giving his upper arm a loving squeeze.

“Thank you, I hope so. Do you think you could tell me what to expect? The information, there’s not very much and there’s words and stuff I just don’t understand.”

“Very good. Happy to. Male pregnancy, you know what, I didn’t congratulate you, yet? Congratulations, Harry!” She jumps up and gives him a big hug while he is seated. _Being affectionate must run in the family,_ he muses _._ “Ok, back on track. Male pregnancy is a bit of a newer phenomenon and it’s not because the women gathered together and had their wishes granted that men could finally experience pregnancy.” She laughs. “There’s been evidence of males giving birth for the last 50 years or so all over the world. It’s remarkable and very exciting for the birth community. In the UK, we have about 10 cases or so per year; it is hard to say. Not all of these births go to term. Some males abort due to pressure or just don’t want to carry the baby. The births that do go to term are not talked about much since there is a bit of a stigma around it, unfortunately. There are also a lot of big-bellied blokes out there so the men that are pregnant don’t necessarily stand out. In any case, because it is a recent evolutionary development, the research has not caught up with explaining why mother nature created this phenomena. We do know that there are a lot of sex and genital variants. Some babies are born with both types of sex organs, some functional, some not. Some have a penis, testes, prostate and also a uterus. These males are not able to get pregnant. Here let me show you a picture. I had to print this from the internet. It’s not even in medical course books yet.” She presents normal female sex organs depicting female pregnancy picture along with the male pregnancy version. “What is known about male pregnancy is that there is a version of the uterus, similar to what women have. This is also called a womb, you may be more familiar with that term. It is there where the baby grows. The uterus also has a type of ovary which contains genetic material. In women this is called an egg. In men, it is called a Wellington cell. Men and women also have a fallopian tube, which women have where the egg of the woman is released monthly, then travels down the fallopian tube and gets fertilized there by the male’s sperm and implanted in the uterus. If the egg is not implanted, then the woman gets her menstrual period.  If the male’s Wellington cell does not get fertilized and implanted, then there is some rectal sensitivity and hormonal fluctuations similar to that of a female on and leading up to her period but no shedding of the uterine lining and blood. It seems the male uterus sheds the lining, but it is reabsorbed by the body. An organ called a placenta grows there as well and that is where the baby lives and gets his or her nourishment.”

"A Wellington cell?" Harry asks with confusion.

"Not much is known about the Wellington cell and scientists are currently investigating it so I don't have specific information. What is known is kind of unclear but there are experts that definitely see some promising patterns."

“Thank you for all of this information, but could you explain how I got pregnant?” he asks a bit sheepishly, the mystery of male pregnancy still plain on his face.

“Certainly. Men who are able to become pregnant have what is called a fistula, which is a connection between two body parts. Under non-male pregnancy situations, fistulas are considered abnormal and can be a connection between blood vessels, organs, and other bodily structures. In male pregnancy, there is a fistula that connects the rectum to the uterus. The fistula has sphincters which are circular muscles that open and close the connection. The sphincters are not activated during a bowel movement, so there is no way for poop, say, to travel to the uterus. In fact, once fertilization occurs, the sphincters close tightly and seal it with a thick plug of mucus to keep the uterus sterile. The body is truly built for pregnancy.”

“So, I got pregnant bumming?”

“Yes, Harry, that is typically how it happens. The in vitro methods have not been tested on men, yet, so sexual intercourse is the only way that we know about so far. What is interesting, too, which I forgot to mention is that the fistula’s sphincters are not stimulated to open during a regular bowel movement but seemingly the repeated thrusting of rectal intercourse seems to trigger them to activate and the semen may also sensitize the sphincters, too. So, in the future, you’ll want to be careful if you want to prevent a pregnancy.”

“Ok,” his head falls and he looks at his hands which are turning red and white at the knuckles.

“This is an awkward question in front of your mother, so, Anne I’m going to ask you to step out just for a minute.”

They wait while she leaves the room, “Do you know if it took you a long time to conceive? How long were you having unprotected sex?”

“I only had it a few times, maybe three times. My partner and I were both virgins, so we didn’t use any protection. I feel so stupid now. I had no idea this could happen,” anxiety, fear and embarrassment morph his expressions. He’s feeling very exposed having this conversation with his latest sex partner’s mother. Part of him wants to disappear. He closes his eyes and imagines the loveseat swallowing him whole.

“Oh ok. I know there’s not much public awareness of it. I didn’t even think to have this conversation with my son. My daughters, yes absolutely. Your mum probably feels like she may have let you down in not warning you of this, too, so expect her to have a lot of emotional swings about it. It’s natural. As a mother, you worry about your kids from the time they’re conceived until the day you die. Your children are a living version of your heart and soul in the world,” she puts her hand to her chest and squeezes. A look of stress washing over her.  ”Do you and your mum have a good relationship, open communication and all that?”

“We do, but I didn’t tell her I was gay until recently in the doctor’s office. Actually, when the doctor recommended some counseling, which is where I met Doctor Tomlinson. Was quite a shock to her, but I feel like I’m in very good hands with your son. He’s an incredible human being.”

“Harry, I just want to hug you again just for saying that,” her eyes light up, then become stormy, ”He’s going through such a hard time right now. As a mum, as his mum, it makes me happy that he has a lovely person like you in his life, even if just in a professional capacity. He needs all the positive energy he can get right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. If you don’t mind me asking, what is going on? The last time I saw him, he was very happy and this was very, very recently.” _Was that one too many ‘verys’?_ he thinks, hoping his Louis –related pleasure face is not giving him away.

“I shouldn’t talk about it, but he and his partner, uhh, broke things off, so he’s distraught. Don’t ask me what I think about it, because I am not sad but I understand that he is.”

“Oh, gosh, that must be really hard on him.  They were together for 8 years. That’s a long time. I’ll definitely give him an extra long hug and bring him some homemade chocolate chip scones next time I see him.”

“Those are his favourite,” she says with a bit of calculation in her voice.

“I know. He also likes my almond Florentines. And the croissants. But, yes, anything for the good doctor, the best doctor,” he winks and gives her a Styles smile.

“Wait, you baked pastries? For him? He has such a weakness for them. He lives on toast and pasta because he can’t cook. It’s a good thing he does so much yoga. You better watch out or you might not be able to get rid of him,” she warns, waggling a light-hearted finger at him.

“That’s good intel, Mrs. Deakin,” he nods like they’re two spies sharing crucial information. “Out of curiosity, what is his favorite meal? Sometimes we meet in the evening and I like to bring him something to eat. I’d love to cheer him up, if I could.”

“Are you real? I might have to hug you again to check,” her eyes squint and train on him teasingly as if he may be an apparition. She continues, “It sounds yech, but he loves Marmite chicken. Anyway, I hope you let him tell you. He’d be upset with me for talking about his personal life. He’s a private person, probably particularly with his clients. Sounds like you have a good connection with him. You are such a sweetheart, I bet you can get people to tell you anything. Maybe you should be a therapist, too?”

“He keeps things close to his chest”— _mostly me_ — “I’ve noticed that,” Harry feels a flush rising in his cheeks just remembering the weekend of closeness they just had.

“Is there any personal information you’d like to share before your mum comes back in?”

“This is definitely the most awkward question…”

“Impossible. I am a healthcare provider. I’ve seen it all and heard it all. And this is a very safe place, Harry,” she assures with confidence.

“Are there certain things I can’t do now that I am pregnant?” he asks slowly, his tone steeped in embarrassment.

“That’s not awkward in the least.”

“I mean, love making,” he clarifies quietly as he feels the redness of exposure creep over his body.

“Oh, gotcha. Your baby is secure in its womb and you don’t have to change your lifestyle, sexually, very much at all until the third trimester, when you are about 30 weeks pregnant, then we can talk more about adaptations. Until then, you may want to use more lubrication as the hormones tend to dry up the mucus membranes. Many women find that their sexual desires increase especially in the second trimester once the exhaustion and smell-sensitivity fades. You may want to have sex a lot. Just use lube and not too rough.”

“Is your partner concerned about this pregnancy? I noticed that you haven’t mentioned him, which is ok, but just wanting to make sure how to support you best.”

“That’s difficult to answer. Can I get back to you?”

“Sure and I’m happy to answer any questions he may have, too. A baby certainly changes a dynamic and it requires a lot of patience, understanding, commitment to make it work.”

“Thank you. You are quite a wonderful person. I can see where Lou, I mean Doctor Tomlinson gets his big heart from.” They smile at each other and Harry can feel Jay connecting with his energy, too. Feels safe like reuniting with a favourite family member.

“You know what, I am going to give you another squeeze because you are making me so happy and you are such a lovey.” She takes him into her arms and he meets her halfway up to a stand. They hug there and he feels an exchange of love with her. “You know, this is a great time to do the physical exam portion of the visit. Would you like your mum present?”

“Ummm, maybe, nah, that’s ok.”

“Alright, I’ll pop my head out and let her know it’s going to be a little longer. Please disrobe to your pants and put the gown on like a bathrobe. Hop up on the table and I’ll be right back.”

For a moment, Harry panics. There’s no going back though, so he shucks his clothes and puts the robe on and ties it tightly around his waist.

“Ok, Harry, I’m going to ask you to loosen your robe. Don’t worry, you’ll still retain your modesty. I just need to have access to your abdomen and chest.”

He scrunches his eyes together and slowly unties and opens it a bit.

“Oh, my stars!” Jay blurts out. “Harry, are you ok? Did you have a fall? And hit every part of your body?”

“No, they’re what you think they are,” he closes his eyes and feels searing heat of embarrassment run through his body like wildfire.

“Oh my. Oh my,” she shakes her head in bewilderment and leans in to look at them. “I’ve never seen that before. But, no judgment. No judgment. There’s probably a hundred. Do they hurt? Can I touch you or does it feel like bruises all over? I hate to expose myself like this but I’ve never had one.”

“They’re tender, but you can touch them.” Physically he’s fine, but emotionally, he’s feeling bruised.

“I want to ask but I am not going to. I am just so curious about them. I mean doesn’t it hurt?”

“It does but it also feels good. The whole experience feels kind of intense. Kind of a good pain. Oh god, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with Dr. Tomlinson’s mother. Please don’t tell him.”

“Of course not and I don’t want to know.”

“You definitely don’t want to know.”

She gave him a concerning look, “As a healthcare provider, I have to ask this: are you in a safe relationship?”

“I don’t have any concerns. And, I have the best therapist, if an issue arises,” he tries not to blow his cover but couldn’t pass up an opportunity to compliment Louis.

“You’re right about that. I hope he is really good to you.” Harry gives her a big, reassuring smile and she continues, “Let me listen to your lungs and take your blood pressure. Then we’ll measure your abdomen and that’s it.”

She completes her tests. “Harry, you are measuring about 10 weeks pregnant. Does that sound right? That you conceived in late July?”

“Yes, that’s about right. You know, that means I got pregnant the first time I had sex. I’m a teenage statistic,” sadness and a bit of shame fill his body. He feels like caving in.

Jay looks like she senses Harry’s emotional anguish, “Harry, you’re wonderful and babies change lives, but I’d like to think it’s mostly for the better. Don’t you?”

“I’ve always wanted to be a parent, but I thought I’d adopt or something when I was older.”

“Well, my dear, the future is now. Shall we bring your mum back in?” He nods and Anne joins them with a look of curiosity on her face.

“One more question, and I don’t want all the details but how do men do with this?”  

“These men, men like you,  that have hybridized uterus are able to carry the baby to term if they wish and can have a natural birth, though most elect to have a c-section at thirty six or thirty seven weeks, instead of around forty weeks which is nature’s timeframe.   It’s not safe for the babies to be taken that early but there’s a lot of pressure and frankly, men do not tolerate the pain and discomfort of pregnancy well. Usually. Men are able to have a natural childbirth safely though.  I’ve found that techniques like hypnosis and some therapy are great for getting the mind prepared for the birth process and things like yoga and swimming keep the body strong and fit throughout.”

“I’ve just started doing yoga at Essence at Doctor Tomlinson’s recommendation. I really love it.”

“He also attended a yoga retreat with your son this past weekend and raved about it,” Anne added proudly, happy to establish a connection between the families.

Jay’s skin turns pale and her eyes get wide as she’s maybe putting the pieces together. Her eyes fade out and look far away. She snaps back, “Oh, that’s wonderful Harry. It’s helped Louis develop as a person, I truly believe that. In any case, it was a real pleasure meeting you Harry and Anne. Here’s some more information about midwifery care should you choose to go this route. I almost forgot, I can ask my client who was in a similar position if he has time to talk to you. He is really a fantastic dad, they both are to a gorgeous two year old girl. Would you like to chat with him to talk about his experience?”

“I would love that. Thank you. You have been so helpful and lovely. I really appreciate everything. It’s also very special to meet Dr. Tomlinson’s mum, he’s...” and pats his heart and feels love rushing into his body .

“Oh, Harry, you’re part of the family now. Off topic, but do you babysit?”

“I do. I love kids.”

“We can talk about this later, but you have such lovely energy and my kids would love you, I’m sure. I mostly need help in the evenings while I’m there, occasionally, just playing with the kids while I’m making supper or helping the older ones with homework.”  

“I also cook and bake as well,” he smiles proudly. Jay puts her hand to the forehead and swoons dramatically.

“Well, if you have some time, any time, in the near future. I will put you to work and pay you. And, it might give you a taste of your future. Also, maybe if we get organized by the time your baby arrives, you can have some of the twins’ baby clothes. If, that’s the key word, if. I need help.  Here’s a card and I put my mobile and home phone number on it. Here’s one for you, too, Anne,” she hands it over with a big smile and a gentle shoulder squeeze.  “Feel free to contact me about anything. I’m very happy for you and look forward to seeing your blooming belly throughout your pregnancy. Can I give you both a hug? You’re so delightful; you’ve really made my day. Thank you for being so good to my son, too.”

“It’s easy to be good to him. You raised a great man there, Mrs. Deakin.”

A big hug and a cheek kiss each and they were on the way to the University for his next appointment.


	14. Chapter 14

Sunday morning arrives in the blink of an eye and Harry’s knocking at the door just as Louis finishes tidying up. There’s a lot of loose ends and not much storage, but he does his best to polish that turd and make it presentable for his special friend. Oooooooohhhhhh.

The windows are open and he’s just smudged with some sage clearing out the stale energy in the space. A few candles are lit and his outfit is lit, too: yoga boy shorts and a newly created crop top from an old Ramones T-shirt. He may be out of practice but knows how to make himself fucking delectable.

His root and sacral chakras are officially out of retirement!

He opens the door a crack to be a tad mysterious and silly, peeking his face through leaving his body hidden. He greets Harry with mischievous eyes and an easy smile, “Hi Harrrrrryyyy.”

“Hello Lou. Now could you please open the door before I drop this stuff?” he says barely balancing precariously stacked packages. “Lou, I’m clumsy on my best days,” he warns and he’s not lying. He’s a human version of a newborn giraffe on roller skates.

Louis opens the door slowly, walking in front of it presenting Harry with a view of his swishing sweet backside.

“Holy shit, Lou. You…oh my god.  I can’t. I’ll drop these. All my blood is going straight to my dick. Fuck, you shoulda warned me.” He follows him nearly cross-eyed and panting. Those boxes definitely have a date with gravity if something doesn’t change pronto.

“Allow me to be of assistance, sweetheart,” he hisses, batting his long eyelashes and locking eyes with Harry as he kneels down on the floor, leaning forward to mouth playfully at Harry’s growing bulge. Tight jeans are not an adequate habitat to contain that sex snake even with the top button undone to accommodate his little pooch. “Mmmmmmmm,” he hums against Harry’s balls as he takes generous handfuls of his arse.

“What kind of a toll is this?” Harry breathed out, his voice airy as his neck extends back, lower jaw hanging open. “I demaaaaa…aaaaaaaaand to know,” his voice shaking and thin, betraying any authority he’s attempting to project.

“Sausage roll toll,” he says looking up at Harry with cheeky fuck me eyes. His hands steady Harry on his hips. “Babe, your knees are shaking.”

“I woke up early, so I could wank twice before coming over….. here. And I made you lunch, so please have mercy, Lou. I just want to feed you and not come in my pants here. Jesus, Lou, you’re making me so hard.” The throbbing in his cock lets him know there is a time limit here and the countdown has started.

“You could come down my throat,” Louis offers swallowing loudly for effect.

Harry is full on twitchy and on the brink of something requiring him to shift and dip his pelvis, “Please, could we lay down or something? I just, uhhhh….and I’m going to drop these. I know it.”

The desperation clear in Harry’s voice, so Louis spares him, stands up and relieves Harry of his shaking load. “Well, that’s a problem because there’s no sofa and the bed is so small and is probably 20 years old.”

“We know what we have to do, then,” he says palming and patting his cock like he is soothing a fussy baby. “But, you have to change first, or so help me god, I will try to seduce you on the first horizontal surface I can get you to. And, Lou…?” he stands ready for his kiss, eyes closed, arms open.

“Aye, aye, captain,” Louis plants a sweet kissie on his sweet lover’s lips and reaches around to squeeze his arse prompting Harry to do the same and roll their pelvises together establishing connection, eliciting an aaaahhhhh from both of them. “Let’s eat, then you can torture me with shopping.”

Louis can smell it before he can see it and it makes him warm inside feeling this cared for. He notes a layer of hardness, one could characterize as defensiveness melt away. Lifting veils, getting to the heart of him. Feels good, just unusual not to be his default guarded self for a moment.

“Lasagne, with not too much garlic, because hopefully, there’ll be some,” smooch face “in our future. And because,” he pats his tummy, “the baby doesn’t let me like it. And some broccolini for balance.”

“Harry, you’re really wonderful and I apologize in advance for any gas I have. Broccoli usually makes me rooty toot toot as my mum says.”

“I want your morning breath, your stinky pits. I want you good, bad and gassy. And, it makes me fart, too, so we’ll cropdust people together. Hey, it could be worse. I could have brought chili.”

“Ooh, I love chili.”

“Maybe for our second date, then.”

 _Date_  fills their thought bubbles at the same time and they mirror a sweet, knowing yet bashful smile, quirking their lips and tilting their heads. _Date._

 .........

Harry wasn’t exaggerating, he really knows where to find good, affordable furniture. After browsing for a while, he decides he needed a bedroom set and a new sofa. He deposited Berndt’s cheque the day he got it, so he knows he has the funds to purchase everything without having a financial freakout.

He is drawn to a raised cherry wood platform bed with built in bookshelves. He can see putting them to good use with books, candles and creature comforts.  The dresser is beautiful and the bedside tables are elegant and functional.  Meanwhile, Harry is testing out mattresses and chatting up the saleswoman about the virtues of each. Harry sends a picture of himself laying like sleeping beauty with the caption ‘research’. Louis wanders around, but keeps going back to the cherry wood bedroom set. He knows what he wants, so he takes a photo of it and texts it to Harry who responded with multiple thumbs up emojis. He then sends that photo with the price tag and crafts an email to Berndt asking him to Paypal him the money immediately. Never hurts to ask, right?

His phone peeps and he thinks it might be Berndt being very prompt, however it was a photo message from Harry of a woman a few feet away from him making a disgusting face with the nose, poop, dust emojis with the caption ‘dusted but not busted’. He looks over to Harry who is absolutely cracking up. Just the sight of him makes Louis laugh. The couple that cropdusts people with fart gas must have promise after all.

Within a few minutes, a notification arrives in his inbox from paypal alerting him that money has been transferred into his account. He holds his breath as he scrolls down to see the amount. It’s what he asked for and a few thousand more with a note including that he’ll need a new bed, too. He may have lost a boyfriend but gained a virtual sugar daddy. Could be worse.

With that he hustled, spring in his step and tackled Harry in a backwards hug and gently rolling him on a mattress. “Did you find one you like?” he murmured in his ear, kissing him on the side of the face, giving his ear a little kitten lick. “I saw you over here looking like a princess laying in all these beds.” He holds Harry just a little tighter transmitting sexual tension razzling through him, “Made me want to come over here and kiss you.” With that he kisses Harry on the cheek and nuzzles his neck. _I’m crazy for you. Don’t let me fall in love with you, boy._

Harry laughs, “I did a lot of research testing them out and it seems there’s only one type is safe to sleep in, because did you know that these beds are full of chemicals that outgas? I learned a lot from that lady. In any case, natural latex is the only safe type. And it is not even the most expensive. Let me show you this one.” He leads him by the hand to the Ethos Natural Peace Luxury Plush and together they lay on it, letting their bodies sink into the sheer comfort of the mattress. “And it’s organic.”

Louis reaches over and holds Harry’s hand. “How does it feel on your back?”

“Feels really good. Thanks for asking.”

“You said it’s been hurting.”

“This makes it feel good. You know, maybe it’s my mattress?” Harry says boinging on the mattress with his back and legs like a wild dolphin.

“Harry, what are you doing?” he asks half joking, half concerned as his body is along for Harry’s bouncing escapade and he feels like things are a little out of control.

Now he’s boinging on it in a variety of horizontal angles like a goof. “M’stress testing it to see if it will hold up. Hold up for what I’m gonna do to you later. See if I can fuck you through this mattress," he says sure of himself and leans in and whispers in Louis' ear, "actually, I want you to fuck me tonight."

Louis shoots up instantly, yelping, “Pardon me, ma’am, we’ll take this one.”

 

.........

Some logistical negotiations handled and a quick text to his friend, Liam, to bring his power tools and things are underway. He’ll have a fancy new bed to sleep on today, a hot guy to fuck and a chestnut brown leather sofa to chill on with his buds. He’s got this single life thing in the bag.

“You know, you’ll like my friend Liam. He’s a chiropractor and he can help you with your back. I send a lot of my pregnant yoga mamas to him. They love him. He’s also really hot…”

“Are all your friends hot, because Zain is fit AF—”

“Those two are off limits to you, so you better not flirt with either of them in front me. Uhhh, I just... I don’t like that shit. You know, I never had to deal with that before because whatever his name was had no mojo, but with you….with you Harry, I will get jealous.  So jealous, so just don’t.  Liam’s brother, Luke, also gorgeous, also off limits. He’s a carpenter so between the two of them they will have this stuff assembled in no time.”

“Oh, Lou, I only have eyes for you: these two,” he gestures to his face, “and these two: the leaky and the stinky,” pointing to his cock and backside.

“You’re such a dork. I bet you have a whole notebook of knock-knock jokes, too.”

“I do. Want to hear some?”

“Uhhhh, just one.”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Bed.”

“Bed who?”

“Bed who’s going to make you come tonight.”

 ............

Luke and Liam arrive and within an hour, everything is assembled and they are eating Thai take out on the fancy new sofa and a half hour later saying their goodbyes.

“You were very helpful, Harry. You make the perfect host. Would you like to choose your reward?” he asks stroking Harry’s back and shoulders affectionately.

“Thank you,” he purrs. “What are my options?”

Louis assumes the thinking man position, his index finger to his temple. “Let’s see. A foot massage, a back massage or a bedtime story.”

“Jeez, how can I choose? It’s like asking a man to choose between a blowie and life-saving medicine.”

“Oh, Harry, I will always give you your medicine," he leans in and kisses him and brings Harry's warm hand to his stiffening cock and places his on Harry's giving him some reciprocating strokes and squeezes. 

With them, time stands still and the world slows down.

Things were building up to the point of no return, then Louis startles, "Wait, where does your mum think you are?”

“I told her I was going to the library.”

“You’ve been here all day. Do you think you should call her and give her an update so she doesn’t worry about you? And, you know she probably knows you are lying, Harry. Who makes lasagna and bakes fresh sourdough bread to go to the stacks. That is definitely not on.”

“Yikes, you’re right. She did give me a strange look. ‘M not sure what to do?” worry clouds his face, storm rising behind his eyes.

“Do you have time to take a bath with me and maybe cuddle a bit? Maybe I could rub your feet and back in there, too. An hour, hour and a half tops. That puts you back home by 7:30. That’s pretty good. You can tell her that you already ate dinner and you can bring her the leftovers if you want.”

“She’d like that actually. That’s thoughtful of you, Lou. Ok, let me text her.”

“I can’t believe that I’m helping my teenage paramour, correction, pregnant teenage paramour create fibs to deal with his mum. Life is so weird. You know, all last week, I was a drunken mess. So depressed. I felt like such a loser. It was so bad. I can’t believe how much better I feel just having you in my life, so thank you for that. You should still listen to me and run for the hills, but if you stay for a while longer I’ll make it worth your while.” Louis brings Harry closer and runs his hands through his hair and plants juicy kisses all over his face and neck.

“You’re not my keeper, Lou. You can tie me up …that’s more than ok….”

"Whoooo, now you're talking!" Louis laughs, “You ok with a bath bomb? And candles? And classical music?” Water rushing in the background. Flickers dance shadows on the dark bathroom walls.

“Yes and yes and heck yes,” he affirms as he fires off a quick text to his mum. “I’m falling in love with you, Lou...” he quietly sighs for his ears only.  

They squeeze into the bathtub. It’s fairly large, but with the two of them it is kind of tight. With a back to each end and legs crossed modified jenga-style, they find their comfort zone, bodies relaxing in time with the symphony in the background.

“Sorry, it’s not hot. I know it is not good for pregnant people to sit in hot baths, so we probably can’t stay in too long or we’ll get chilly.”

“This is lovely, thanks Lou.”

“I’ll let you do the honours” and hands Harry the Intergalactic Lush bath bomb. With a splash of color and some fizz, they watch the bomb bloom and spread its joy around the tub. They both lean back and breathe deeply.

Louis reaches underwater finding Harry’s feet and begins squeezing them, starting at the heels and working his way to the toes, releasing tension throughout his whole foot. Giving each area special attention.

Harry kitten purrs and mewls, moans and other relaxative utterances spill from his lips. He is so goddamn sexy. Harry, never one to just be pleased receiving, reaches and finds Louis’ feet reciprocating. He’s such a loveboat.

“Hey babe, I can massage your back better if we lay in the bed. How’s that sound?”

“Magical.”

They towel off and stand in front of Louis’ huge new bed. “Errr, I don’t have any sheets….that could be a problem.”

“Let’s just put some blankets on and improvise for now.”

“You’re so smart. Lay down and let me pamper you a bit, my kitten.”

He really knows just how to touch Harry to make him melt with appreciative sounds all around and he can feel his muscles relaxing under his hands with a bit of massage and cross fiber friction.

“Lou, I’m about to fall asleep. It’s a problem of mine. I can fall asleep anywhere, easily, especially with the baby zapping my energy. I’m not going to make it.”

“Ok, then let me cuddle you and I’ll stay awake and you can drift off if you want. I just wanna hold you for a few more minutes.”

Harry curls up in the little spoon and Louis drapes himself over Harry’s back, threading a leg between his honey’s. Sure enough within seconds, Harry is lightly snoring and twitching. Louis drags a soft blankey up and over his and Harry’s torso, so they stay warm. After a few deep breaths and sniffs of Harry’s hair, Louis is struck by this overwhelming feeling of coming home after being locked outside for so long, so many seasons. _I’ll make this feel like home, Harry_ . Waves of ease roll through his system and he feels what could be months, maybe years or lifetimes of stress vibrate out of his body. Harry’s the balm for his modern life harshnesses. He can feel waves of indulgence in being given the power to determine how long to cuddle, knowing that it is supposed to be a limited time offer. _Just a few minutes more._

“Harry, here’s your bedtime story, love. Please be patient with me. I feel so much with you, for you. It’s scary for me. I hope you trust me when I can’t trust myself. I can’t promise you a happy ending but I promise to try my best to honour you. You’re a gem. And you’re beautiful in every way and you’re going to be a wonderful papa and I hope you make me one someday, too. I’m falling in love with you…” he whispers very quietly to the back of Harry’s head and peppers him with several kisses punctuating intent, then rubbing Harry’s baby belly, “…and all your little things.” Then he gently nudges Harry awake.

Louis prepares a travel mug with peppermint tea to keep Harry awake for his drive home, a bag with the Thai leftovers and sends Harry on his way with one long hug and a very sweet kiss full of promises of long nights and short days, picnics and puppies and in the very, very back of Louis’ anticipant imagination, pitter pattering feet.

His eyes follow Harry as he makes his way down the corridor, then Harry turns, “Thank you for a lovely day, Lou. Thank you, too, for granting all of my wishes.”

Louis willed himself not to overthink it and plopped in bed and klunked out.

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Wait, man, you gotta let me piss before you tell me any more.” Zain sets her chardonnay down and books it to the bathroom clutching her sides, heeled soles tapping sharply down the hall. The first trickles of piss are heard and Zain calls from the opened door, “So, you stroked each other off while soul gazing after a couples massage…with chakra tuning forks…and chanting?”

“No, it was more like mutual masturbation, but yes, to the rest,” he adds modestly, feeling considerably self-conscious. Talking about the experience that defies words feels like cheapening it and makes Louis feel sticky.

“Holy shit, Lou, that is fucking hot. I might need to borrow your mirror for a minute for a quick gaze session myself.” She zips up, washes and runs out, sits down on the sofa and looks attentively at Louis. “Please continue. This is something I want to hear all about.” She places the chilled glass of wine to her forehead while fanning herself with her other hand, a clear blush rising up in her chest and cheeks. “How did this start? Tell me everything!”

“Well, we missed dinner after the massage, shower and cuddle sesh, so Harry is like part-squirrel or something because he always has food. So, he busts out some homemade breads and some fancy cheeses and pastries. It was unreal. We had a picnic in the room. And everything was so delicious, it was like making love, honestly, just eating that food together. He even brought some artisanal bubble drinks and a bar of chocolate.  He is so complete, you know what I mean?”

Zain nods her head and Louis continues, “Then he puts on some music and we have a dance party. Next thing you know it gets like Crazy in Love in there. Have you seen that video?”

“Yeah, of course. Who was Beyonce?” That is, after all, the only important question.

“We both were,” Louis raises his shoulders, rounding them and cringes admitting that to Zain but it’s the truth. They were getting buck wild dancing. “It was the hottest thing ever. Like a ritual of sorts and one thing led to another.”

Zain keeps fanning herself and tops off her and Louis’ glasses of wine. “I just. I am just. Beyond words, honestly, Lou,” she admits. "It's just so beautiful."

“I know it’s surreal. The connection is like nothing I’ve experienced. And he’s just a gentle soul. And a good one.”

“You realize that the connection you feel is a deeper connection to yourself that catalyzes when you experience it with someone with whom you are energetically compatible. It’s reacquainting you with your higher vibration godself. You ask me why I don’t do relationships or casual sex—it’s because I don’t want to waste my time on low-level, messy, primal gutter-type sex when what you have is what I seek. I’m in no hurry and I’m sexy as fuck and treat myself well, so don’t lose any sleep about me. I’m doing quite well in the mind-blowing sex department.”

“I see. I pegged you for a super freak. Pun intended.” They both chuckle. “But seriously, it can’t be described other than he's so yummy and it feels like home and when I’m with him, especially when we are touching, it’s intense and I recognize that I’m home. My soul is home, and it’s a fucking palace. I just never really knew any of this was possible.”

“So how was it different with Harry?”

Louis nibbles on the corner of his thumb and looks toward her like he knows a secret, “Do you want to know something else. I totally shouldn’t tell you but…I can’t get it out of my mind. A defining moment.”

“Yes, Lou. I’ve been such a good friend to you. Pleeeeeease,” she whines sitting up even straighter and leaning closer, chilled wine at the ready.

“K, you promise not to tell anyone,” Zain fixes him with ‘bitch, please’ look, so satisfied with her silence, he continues. “Ok, so after I came in my hand. And, it felt like I came forever, just on and on and on. Just so built up. So I’m staring at this absolute puddle of come and I’m so high that I can like barely focus and he grabs my wrist, brings my hand to his cock and coats his dick with it...uses my jizz as lube, and he comes while jerking off as he is licking my come off my hand. Like completely clean. Eats my come like an animal, I don’t know man, it was fucking primal.”

“Hawwwwwwt!!! I am getting aroused,” she pops an ice cube down her blouse and wiggles as it trails down her chest.

“Then, he pulls what’s left of my jizz off his dick, eats his own come, right? And he must have gotten more turned on and a little bit more blurped from the tip, so he pulled the foreskin back, collected the dribble and swept it through my lips, rubbed it on my tongue and kissed me. And in my mind, I’m hearing ‘You may kiss the groom’ because we just fucking got married. Literally exchanged rings, vows, everything. We swapped come and done.”

“That’s a true communion,” she announced, clapping Louis on the back. “I’m happy for you and damn, that just goes straight to the dick, huh? Fuck me. God, that’s hot. Did he taste good? I know you weren’t really a fan before.”

“This is going to sound cheesy, but you know, it tasted like semen, but there was some meta going on because all my body registered was connection. It was the most intense thing I’ve experienced sexually. I know it sounds weird. I can’t describe it. At that point, I knew him less than a week really. I was with an eight year relationship and we didn’t even get to first base connection-wise.”

“Are you sure you were even on the same team?” she teases, pinching Louis nipple. “But seriously, the word relationship means the distance between two things. Calling something a relationship, if it feels like that—the distance—means you are kind of robbing yourself of the real thing. The oneness. The communion. The coming together. You want to honour yourself? Do that.”

“We haven’t labeled it but it’s way beyond fooling around. He feels it, he knows it too. It’s exciting. It’s unknown but for as much mystery and uncertainty there is, there is no place I’d rather be. I don’t even care if it sounds corny. And it’s not just him but it’s me and I’ve never been that connected with myself than when I’m with Harry. I felt shrouded before.”

“I know……the universe had some surprises for you. Did you see that you were able to receive him when you were ready, like really ready, to change things in your life? When you got out of your own way. Quantum physics tells us everything is energy.  We’re just energetic beings having a human experience. Your personality creates your personal reality and you took steps to open yourself up to the possibility of something else. If you would like something different in your life, you need to act like that difference you seek has already happened. Do you recall what that shift felt like?”

Louis nodded but looked like he wasn’t able to articulate anything.

“Examine your thoughts and attitudes and you can become aware and truly knowledgeable about those aspects of your self--hopefully we can say your old self--you can liberate energy from your system and choose what energy and emotions you live by. You choose, Lou. What did your body feel like at that time?”

He holds his heart and smiles. Words outside his reach.

“Also, in this in-between state, and you stand in the uncertainty, there’s a tremendous amount of power. If you choose to break the discomfort of leaving what is familiar to you, what your brain is addicted to, the feelings of what you think is familiar with Berndt, if you were willing to step out of that old emotion, that old story, you allow yourself to step into the unknown, you have a whole range of possibilities that you weren’t open to receiving before. If you don’t, then it’s just the stupid track with the same ol personality creating the same ol personal reality.” She leans over and gives him a hug and a kiss. “I’m just so happy for you. You are living in state of being where all your needs are met. All you need to do is maintain the modified state of being and let the universe provide for you. It will provide you with the perfect circumstances to mirror your new state of being. It’s just so powerful!”

“Thanks, Z. I see what you mean. I reserved the two bedroom cabin for me and a partner who was interested in meeting me at some level. It’s wild how it all worked out. And did I tell you that I locked him out the first night and he slept on the ground outside the cabin?” Louis covers his mouth with his hands and shudders.

“You didn’t. Poor guy. You’re lucky he’s so tuned in to you, too. I mean can you imagine Berndt not having a complete meltdown?” She leans forward. “You know, I have to ask. Was it weird texting with Berndt while you were there with Harry?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t hear from him at all. I didn’t even have reception and my phone was dead until Monday.”

“That’s interesting. I probably shouldn’t mention this, but I don’t owe him shit. We were out for drinks celebrating Matthew’s postdoc appointment and he kept texting someone on some rubbish flip phone. That’s why I noticed him because it took him forever to text on that thing. T9. Remember those? It took like five minutes to text ‘Where you at?’ anyway, he was smiling over there so I slide my arm around him and ask him 'what’s new' and he says he’s chatting with you. And that to tell me hi from you. What a fucking chump.”

“Wait… a …second. That fucking arsehole!!!!!!!” the look in his eyes evident he’s crash landing into ConclusionLand and imminent self-destruction in 3….2…”

“Dude….bro….you know it doesn’t matter.”

“Not now, Zain. Let me be fucking mad about this!” he fumes storming around the house cursing.

Louis paces straight to Zain. “Do you think he was cheating on me?” Zain remains passive, eyes trained on her friend. “You do. Goddamnit. Do you think he was fucking someone else? You do!”

“I mean it’s suspicious. When is the last time you talked to Berndt? He’s in Germany right?”

“Well, fuck, I don’t know. Let me call him!” He scrolls through his phone and raises a finger to Zain and presses down and holds the phone to his ear. He stands up and drains the rest of his chardonnay and snaps up Zain’s and downs it, too. Liquid courage.

“Guten Abend, Frau Schmidt, Louis Tomlinson hier. Wie geht ist Ihnen? Ist Berndt da?” He shakes his head, eyes looking up and to the right, clearly annoyed. “Ich verstehe. Immobilien? Ach so. Danke sehr und alles gute. Tchuss!” He hangs up. “He’s house and furniture shopping with his friend and goddamn it what the fuck!” Louis tosses his mobile into the sofa and starts chugging the bottle of wine.

“Let’s get you out of the house.” After a quick piss each, they head out to their walking path near the lake.

Louis’ hands are balled up and he’s waving his arms rather aggressively.

“Dude, I know you are pissed but can you tone down the body language? You’re drawing attention and we come here a lot. Together. Just don’t want the authorities involved.”

“I am so pissed. I can’t believe he would do this to me. What an arsehole!”

“Well, let’s assess the real risks. Were you using any protection?”

“No, of course not, well a little. We were together for 8 years and we were both virgins, so we never did. Actually, toward the end sometimes we did.”

“Ok, so maybe some STD testing is something you may want to prioritize. The rest you can’t control.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he concedes angrily, a bit defeated. He turns to Zain, stopping her gently by the wrist. “There’s something I shouldn’t tell you for a number of reasons, some of them legal and ethical but as my best friend, I need to share ….so promise me you won’t breathe any of this to anyone.” He levels his eyes, squinting them at her assessing her trustability, which he already knows the answer to.

“Cross my little rainbow heart,” she makes an X across her chest and reaches out to him, stopping her movements.

He leans in close to Zain and in a hushed voice he utters, “Harry’s pregnant.”

Zain screams, peals of excitement and disbelief streaming out of her mouth. She’s waving her hands like they’re hummingbird wings fanning her face. She jumps around and wraps Louis up in a huge hug. “Oh my god, congratulations man. I know how long you’ve wanted this.”

“Well, I’m not the father,” he says sadly and scrubs his face.

“Ooooooohhhhhh, this is messy, holy shit. I might need another bottle of wine.”

“Me, too. Let’s head out of here.”


	16. Chapter 16

Harry wakes up energized, sits up and peeks outside. Still dark.

He fumbles around for his phone which he remembers was by his midsection last he had it. Louis likes to read the baby a bedtime story and Harry often falls asleep to his voice as well.

He retrieves it and notices he got a new text. He strains his eyes to focus on a picture text from Louis that was sent last night showing a freshly scrubbed and relaxed beau from his bath relaxing on his new linens like a bubbling sexpot. His head nestled into the new cloud-like pillows and bedding that they chose together on Amazon. Crown-chakra coloured Magenta Egyptian cotton 400 thread-count looking nearly as luxurious as his lover’s lips.

A lone candle in the background, placed on a bookshelf lights up Louis’ hair, highlighting his exquisite features.  He looks like a dream. His arm is out-stretched on the other pillow in a ‘come and cuddle your Lou’ manner. His eyes are closed and he’s making a lips out kissie face. It is simply adorable.

The constellation duvet they spent hours picking out on Society6 barely seen around his waist. He sees himself cocooning in it and waking Louis up with a lazy morning blowjob. He can taste the salt and he's got quite an appetite.

He gazes at the photo and sees so much warmth, feels so much heat. He wants to fly straight to him but cannot so he lifts his mobile up to his eye level, tapping the screen to stare at this gorgeous man.   _Are you real_?

He saves the photo in his folder. He sees himself wrapped up in the bed, limbs wound around his hot boyfriend and imagines snuggling this man up. Heat radiating off of his body, head to toe. He holds the phone to his heart and connects with Louis’ heart through the ethers of his imagination. He sees them bonded and tied up like two ships, buoyant and bouncing in a healing love.

 Unbreakable.  Louis’ heart beating inside of his.  

He makes it Louis’ avatar in all of his contacts. He already has his own ringtone, too, so the picture completes the deal.

He expands the picture with his fingers and focuses on Louis’ face. Staring at his eyes, Harry feels a surge of want. Want to be with him. Want to kiss him. Want to be older. Want to be more settled. Want to stretch him open. Want to bite his neck and drag his nails down his back. Want to care for him. Want to raise a family with him.

In spite of it being a very new relationship, the love part is settled on his end at least; the devil is in the details. Harry’s often wondered how the baby will fit in with his plans, their plans. Priorities will change. He will gain weight. He’ll have to take care of the baby’s needs first above anyone else’s. Louis’ has mentioned several times that he gets jealous. He wonders if the baby will break them.

Seeing the bed lain out, open and willing to receive he sends a wave of affection to his beau. In sending it, he feels it return to him, too, as if there’s a virtual Lou in the cosmos mirroring everything back to him. This new way of relating is puzzling yet at the same time the most natural thing in the world.

He sends another charged thoughtform to Louis. An image of them in bed, that bed, with the baby sleeping between them, a muslin blankey over the babe. He feels the thicker than blood familial love, holding them together, bonding them. Its strength more in its power than in its force. He opens his heart and consciously sends a blessing to the baby and to Louis for being in his life and wraps them all in an bright cloud of love and gratitude.

He leans back in bed, letting his tense neck fall deep in the pillow. He imagines clouds of comfort surrounding him, protecting him, buoyant. He drifts back to sleep imagining cosleeping with the baby, cuddling up and keeping the baby safe between the two people that love him or her the most. Another two hours before his alarm goes off.

 

And he needs his rest, because: It’s a big day.

  ..........

“Alright, Harry, are you ready to see your baby? It’s sixteen weeks so if you want to know and the baby cooperates, I can likely tell you the sex. Would you like to know that?”

“Yes!” he exclaims.

Jay’s gloved hand moves the ultrasound wand around Harry’s belly identifying the body parts and giving a narrative of what she sees and assures him that everything looks quite normal.

“Ok, do you mind? I think I want to record this part?” Harry nods when he is ready and passes the phone to his mum.

“Harry, do you have a prediction?” Jay asks with some suspense in her voice.

“Sometimes I think a girl, but then I keep having dreams about a boy. I’ll be so happy either way,” he clasps his hands together in anticipation and looks at his mum to see if she has a reaction. She just beams at her son.

“Well, it looks like you should trust your dreams because right here is the little penis. It actually looks a little big, but that happens. Genetics. Must have inherited from one of his two dads.”

“That’s my boy!” he chuckles and his mum stops the recording. She hands the iPhone back to Harry and he quickly fires off a quick text and puts the phone on the table beside Jay.

“Can you lay flat and hold still, I need to get an angle to look at the organs and the spinal structures. She drags her ultrasound wand through the gel and scans Harry’s abdomen from many angles, clicking a button and capturing an image and explaining it to Harry and Anne.

 “The good news is: everything looks really quite normal,” she says with a big assuring smile at Harry and his mum.  “I just need to check one more thing, so please hold still.”

She takes a cloth to wipe up his abdomen with her gloved hands and stops suddenly when some music starts playing. “Harry. Oh my, what’s that song? I know it anywhere. Summer loving, had me a blast. Where is that music?  Oh Harry, that’s your phone.”

She leans over and looks at the phone on table. “Says Facetime request with a Lou Superman. Do you…Oh my!” An image of Louis leaned back shirtless on his bed fills this whole screen. “Oh, is that?” She uses her wrist to bump up her glasses and leans closer to inspect the phone, “That’s my son. Do you want to take it?”

“Oh, that’s ok. Sorry about that,” he prays that it will stop ringing. His feels his face turn every shade of red under the scrutiny of the two mums staring expectantly at him. His face is burning and his ears are ringing shrilly and everything sounds like he is underwater.  “We are supposed to meet later, so. Probably nothing urgent.”

It keeps ringing and the song restarts. He wants to disappear through the slot in the examining table and he sends Louis a psychic message to fucking hang up! But he is persistent and the cycle of music starts again.  Jay continues to stare at the phone and Anne’s eyes dart from Harry to the phone like a tense tennis match. It is awkward and he waves at it as if to dismiss it.

“It’s alright with me if you want to talk to him.” Harry nods and smiles for her to continue. “Whoaaa, there’s that song again. This time it says phone call from Lou Superman. I don’t mind. Seems like he wants to talk with you.” She looks up at him with concern in her eyes.

 

“It’s ok. We can continue.”

“Did Louis tell you he was in the musical Grease in high school?” Jay asks earnestly and bops her head to the music. “He loves musicals and singing. He was Danny Zuko. I heard this song about a million times. He loves it. Still does. You should ask him about it.”

“That’s interesting,” Harry smiles quickly and then resumes his tense posture, a little pout on his lips. He remembers hearing all the stories and he and Louis have a dance routine worked out to the soundtrack...he knows...

And then every few seconds another beep notifies him a new text arrived. It sat on the table beeping away.  Jay continues with her examination while Harry lays still on the table. She probes his abdomen and takes some vital signs. Time is going verrrry slow and Harry feels like he is in a time warp, stuck between dimensions.

“Says seven new text messages from Lou Superman. And three photo messages. I can read them to you if you—“ Jay offers as Harry sits up wildly reaching for his phone.

“No, it’s ok. But can I see the phone, please?” he attempts to school his expression but a smile cracks through when he sees a series of emojis of babies and booties, celebration, dancing.  Out of curiosity, he clicked on the photo and one is Louis holding a little blue onesie up to his chest with a dummy in his mouth, eyes crossed. He laughed out loud at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Oh, is that your therapist? I’ve never seen him before,” Anne quips and leans in to get a closer look. Harry snaps his phone to his chest and feels a blush rising up. “He’s handsome, too,” she offered and Jay nods in thanks, “and cheeky. What was in his mouth?”

“I don’t know, mum. He’s just being silly,” Harry closes his eyes and pockets his mobile. Meanwhile, it keeps peeping away in his trousers, so he quickly takes it out and silences it.  

“Jeez, Harry, your phone is blowing up as my kids say,” Jay lets out a loud laugh and claps Harry on the shoulder.

 ..........

Harry hops out of the car at the agreed upon spot but doesn’t see Louis anywhere. He surveys the building, the text message and the time, so he decides to stand outside the restaurant and wait. He’s in a slightly shitty mood and sinks into the pain that his brain is mainlining his fears.

He hears a little knock on the window and jumps in surprise. He catches Louis behind the glass giving him a distinct come-hither look beckoning him inside with a very charming smile.

He feels him before he can see him and his heart chakra tingles. The energy spreads quickly throughout his body and carries him toward Louis. Harry has entertained about 103 doubts per day about what he is doing with Louis but those tingles effectively erase his fears and reground him in the present. He rounds the corner and runs into Louis’ embrace.

“Congratulations, Harry!” Louis gives him a big hug and bends down to kiss his growing belly. He’s 16 weeks and is definitely starting to show. “Hi little guy, it’s Lou. Your daddy can’t wait to meet you—“he pauses and kisses the belly a few more times rubbing them in—“and I can’t either,” he whispers soothingly to the bump before standing up and pressing a kiss into Harry’s dimpled cheek.

A little shock strikes Harry when he hears the word ‘Daddy’ and feels unmoored. He wonders where Louis fits into this little family and what his relationship will be. He’s been thinking of this a lot and feels his body become tense considering all possible outcomes.

“Are you excited, Harry? A little boy!” he looks up and catches Harry’s expression. “You ok? You look stressed, hun.”

“Uhhhhh,” he groans noncommittally. He meets Louis’ eyes and feels them boring through him and capturing him in a way that he can’t bullshit through. He capitulates, “Lou, I’m nervous. A lot. Lately.”

“Anything I can help with? We could turn this into a session if you want. I was thinking dinner and maybe some footsie, but we can do whatever you want,” his teasing tone stops suddenly as he assesses Harry’s pained expression, reaching out to hold his arm across the table. He pleads, “Talk to me, Harry.”

“I’m just confused. About a lot of things. A lot of good things and a lot that freaks me out,” he takes a deep breath and hunches his shoulders. “Like, my phone kept ringing during the ultrasound appointment and it was your ringtone. And your mum started singing along and announced ‘phone call from Lou Superman’ and saw your avatar,” he shows it to Louis and he squeezes his eyes shut in a ‘busted’ expression, “and my mom saw one of the pictures you sent and I wanted to die. I feel like I have to hide us, whatever this is and between our mums, I could tell they knew something was up. Felt shitty lying and pretending.” _Especially when I wanted you there with me_ , he thinks but the words get lost in his heart.

“Well—“ Louis jumps in with a therapeutic tone and is immediately cut off.

“Let me finish. Please,” some tears prickle in eyes and he starts to sniff and rub his nose. “I am an honest person. And you are amazing, no question, but whatever this is feels kind of gross and wrong, to be honest. I feel stupid.” _We don't make love. You don't love me._

They stare at each other from across the table. Tension building and cresting in their eyes. Nobody budges. The waiter approaches the table, pen in hand, stands for a few seconds and turns away.

“Harry, I know things are weird. And I’m not making things easy. I’m not ready for anything serious. I don’t even know how to be a good boyfriend. I’m feeling like a failure at the moment. All that I know is that I really enjoy you…and I don’t want to lose you—“

“—but you don’t want to keep me either,” he counters in a hurt tone and wipes some tears from his leaky eyes. He has a vision of raising the baby alone and feels a crack fracture his ideal family fantasy.

“Harry, let me put it to you this way. With us, I feel like we’ve been given an answer key to the biggest, most important test of our lives but we don’t quite know the material yet. This, us, feels very end-game to me,” he admits and looks away. “But we don’t know each other well enough for me to feel comfortable saying, ‘This is it’.”

“So, you want to see other people?” Harry countered with a particularly venomous tone.

Louis doesn’t engage him there and responds with warmth, “Well, no, not at the moment. Before you, I didn’t even know this was possible and it feels wonderful. Is there anything wrong with just seeing where it goes before trying to contain it and force it into a mold?”

“With this baby, I want to know who is in and who is out. I still can’t get a hold of Richard, which is weird. I dropped by his house and left a note in the postal box. I’m feeling very uncertain of everything. I feel alone,” he looks up to Louis who meets his concerned face. “I’m scared.”

“I can see why you would feel that way,” he soothes, looking deep into Harry’s dark green eyes. “What can I do? Do you need some space from me?”

“No.”

“What can I do to make it better?” Louis reaches across the table and takes Harry’s hand.

Harry looks up to him and then away. His eyes are stormy and his face looks emotionally-weathered. _What would you do_? he boldly asserts in his mind but doesn’t risk asking, so he continues staring in his lap snuffling up tears.

“Do you want to come back to my place to cuddle? I’d love to hold you.” _You’ll know my heart._

Harry nods and offers a warm smile through his tears. His heart feels crampy and his breath sharp. He leans back against the bench and closes his eyes. Louis orders their food to go and they hot foot it back to Louis’ flat.

 .........

They let their bodies speak where words and promises fail.

Each snuggle session feels like a little piece of heaven on earth.  So comfortable at rest, so vitalized in motion. Occasionally, it ends in a blowie or strokes but never any further.

As Harry rotisseries around in Louis’ new comfy bed, he wonders when they’re going to go all the way. He longs to know Louis in that way. To feel him and to experience that level of intimacy with man he regards as his boyfriend, but they are not official-official. His cock fattens just imagining spreading Louis out and opening him up artfully, even though he has no experience. He’s never topped. He has imagination to spare and has dedicated many hours watching instructional videos on XXX sites, so he’s itching to get his fingers dirty, so to speak.

Let’s keep it real: Harry’s in his second trimester and Mrs. Deakin was right, he is horny and wants to make love all the time.

Snuggling is wonderful, truly and they spend a lot of time getting to know each other’s bodies in a relatively un-sexual way. He yearns for more. Always more. Alone, he can bring himself all the way living a virtual play-by-play rocking into Louis’ body, tongues tasting and working up a sweat. But in person, they don’t get very far, between his pregnancy fatigue and Louis’ workload they both tend to fall asleep in each other’s arms, bodies curled up cozy. Harry sets an alarm and they kiss and say good night.

He wonders how far Louis goes when he goes home. Does he think of him in the same way Harry does him? Does he find a way to his prostate’s magic button to make himself scream in ecstasy like Harry did their first night with lube? Does he hold down Harry’s lower lip and chin up as he finishes himself off with a cum shot facial? Does he fantasize about licking out Harry’s arse in the bathtub?

Harry runs through these various scenarios in his head and if one or two involved adding Liam and/or Zain to the sex mix, well he’s human and they are both fit as fuck.

Running these thoughts through his mind causes the heat to intensify in his pelvis like a burning ember and his balls are going from perfectly toasted to charred, burning marshmallow. He really wants to bust a nut and experience a soul-searing orgasm, but his bed buddy is out for the count.

Louis’ soft snores and steady breathing give Harry the go ahead to take his own cock out and pleasure himself. He rolls over carefully and sniffs Louis’ hair and armpit and gets a rush straight to his dick. He takes a whiff of Louis’ pants and tries not to awaken his sleeping cock, careful to tip his head back and lean with his nose, slowly taking it all in. His undies smell kind of ripe but it just makes Harry want to fuck him even more. He wants to bury his head in Louis’ perineum and cover himself in his smells, his flavors, his essence. The thought of rubbing his face in his partner’s ball sweat brings out such an animalistic urge, he has to jerk off now before he puts himself at risk of testicular torture.

He quietly opens the bedside table and locates the lube. He squeezes some on to his hand and feels self-conscious and considers running to the bathroom to finish. He takes a deep breath and connects to his root chakra and starts stroking with vigor.

He rolls slightly away from Louis and continues masturbating but is unable to really get it going quietly, so he says fuck it and gets on his knees facing Louis and looks at his sleeping friend as he juggles his balls and twists his wrist in such a way that makes all the pleasures flood his body. He’s chasing it with his hands gliding expertly and desperately over his cock faster, faster, slower, ahhhhhhhhs escaping between his lips as his heat crests and falls in time with his strokes. He sits back on his haunches and arches his back imagining Zain standing against the wall watching him stroking his own penis to an intense erection gazing at Harry. The image of being watched sends him over the edge and he’s stroking his cock like his life depends on it and the orgasm rocks through his body like an earthquake decimating a village.

His jizz fills the palm of his hand and starts to leak on Louis’ bedding. He quickly grabs the closest article of clothing that he can to dob it up and he winces when it’s Louis’ T-shirt that he was wearing 20 minutes ago, but he can’t bring himself to care about it in the moment.

There must be some boyfriend code where this type of behaviour is appropriate. He cleans himself off with the shirt and rubs his cock and balls dry and tosses it in the laundry hamper.  

............

Another day, another text from his mother inquiring about babysitting. He groans and tosses the phone on the chair near the bed. _Not today_.

Their mother-son relationship has been one of avoidance of late for a few reasons, some of them time-related, but mostly he’s afraid his mum will see through his and Harry’s professional-platonic façade, immediately and call him out. Harry is a terrible liar, no question, but Louis is transparent at best and full-on confessional after a glass or two of wine. He can’t risk seeing her, especially now that she and Harry’s mum have struck up a solid friendship in the past month; it’s got him tiptoeing on exploding eggshells.

He’s got so much on his mind lately. The Harry thing is kind of dicey and he feels all kinds of insecurities come up when Harry enters his mind. He also realizes he’s feeling something he’s not proud of and tries to stuff it down. _Probably never appropriate to feel that_ , he scolds himself. 

He also hates Berndt and Richard and doesn't think that will change anytime soon.

The thing is that he and Harry feel so good together but, and it is a big but, there are too many things that are out of his control and it is making him freak out. There's no way to construe their relationship in any ethical professional way and this cuts deep and makes him feel filthy dirty. He doesn't want to be a psychologist perv fuck up, but the more he thinks about Harry, the more he wants him- in all ways.

He wants it all but so much of him won't allow himself to experience those deep feelings fully. He hasn't heard any gossip around the department about them but imagines scenarios where he has to choose his professional integrity and future or Harry. It makes him cringe.

And Harry is so young, what's to prevent him from growing tired of Louis as he grows up? He imagines Harry becoming an adult and having more realistic expectations of him. What if Harry looks back on what's going on now and accuses Louis of taking advantage of his youthful state and resents him for not using better judgment as the only adult in their dyad? 

He doesn't find himself sexually attracted to young people in general, but 17 is quite young in the eyes of the law, and society and reality. He remembers being 17 and wanting to fuck his drama teacher and grateful that his teacher never reciprocated any of his energetic advances. It was just innocent in retrospect, though at the time, he would've gone home with the guy if the opportunity presented itself.

So much pressure to do the right thing. He would hate to have Harry be heart broken, feel taken advantage of or threaten his license and professional livelihood later on. He's got Harry's and his future self to consider. Fuck! 

Does he keep a tighter grip on himself, on Harry or just learn to let things go?

None of this shit makes any sense. And he doesn’t want to talk to Zain about it so he just stews and stews and broods and makes up his own inevitable endings to the dangling conclusions in his mind. His fears have an answer to everything and it is comforting as well as terrifying. His mind is a field of landmines and he has every urge to trample through it just to watch himself explode.

Why can’t he have it all?

He’s a fucking disaster, at least that’s the mantra that’s looping through his belief cycle.

............

It’s Halloween and all of the ghosts and haunting imagery have crept in to his mental crypt. Whispering spirits hissing in his ears, beings jumping out from around corners. Things have become a little unsafe in his conscious mind and he’s jumpy AF.

 _Harry_ , he thinks as he finally fully wakes up and decides he will get out of his comfy bed within the next half hour. The last thing he remembers is falling asleep cuddling with him. He doesn’t bother reaching over to his side of the bed because he knows he is gone. He’s cold without Harry’s body heat and he’s feeling alone.

He reaches over to find his shirt and it’s gone, too, so he pulls his duvet up and wraps himself up imagining he was snuggled up tightly in Harry’s arms. He nuzzles the blanket but it is not satisfying. He is coming to realize that he is, in general, not satisfied in that life-affirming meaningful way unless he is with Harry and that is scaring the shit out of him.

He lost himself in his last relationship and _not again_ , he vows.

To his delight, but not to his surprise, he finds his cock very interested in a playful morning stroke session. Just the thought of Harry and being surrounded by his sexy goodness makes masturbation the only reasonably loving thing to do at the moment. He shakes himself free of the blankets and rolls over and sniffs Harry’s pillow and thank fuck it smells just like him and he’s halfway home working that dick while sniffing that pillow. He pulls Harry's jumper from beneath his own pillow and drapes it over his face.

“Harry…Harry…Harry, uh god, yes, Harry Harry, yessssss…,” he moans as his dry fist speeds up his shaft pulling pure pleasure back down with each stroke. He manhandles himself with another smell of Harry’s pillow and he’s transported to a world of happiness, love and pure pleasure; seventeen and pregnant has never been so sexy. He imagines Harry stroking his dick below his blooming belly and that takes Louis waaaaaaay over the edge, Boom!!! and shoots come all over the bed.

It’s Harry’s side so figures he needs to do some laundry before their next cuddle rendezvous.

He strips his linens and is about to stuff them into the hamper when he sees his T-shirt. He lifts it up, immediately suspicious and confirms, Harry rubbed one off into his shirt. _Fuck, I’m in love!_ he realizes and sets the shirt aside. He holds it up to his nose and rubs the non-wet spots on his face. Goddamn, his lover is hottest piece of ass on the planet and his dick is more than interested in another round, so he takes the T and grabs the lube and opens himself up slowly and finishes himself off with a vibrator. He shoots his come into the T shirt and mixes the two together, _bonded for life_.

He literally floats to the shower and does his morning business. Passing thoughts of Harry come into to his mental view box as he soaps himself up and cleans very well behind his balls and rim of arse, making sure all the hairs are clean. He wonders if Harry will want to make another visit tonight and perhaps they can fool around a bit more intentionally. He wonders if Harry can tell psychically when he thinks of him, particularly when he is wanking. A wave of embarrassment washes over him followed by a smile because if anything, he thinks Harry would enjoy knowing how he’s front and center, star of Louis’ fantasies.

He towels off and retrieves his peeping phone. One picture message from Harry.

He opens it and it’s a close up of a fresh wet bite on what must be Harry’s shoulder based on the shape, teeth deeply marking the reddened area with the caption, “Thinking of you.” His dick is so tickled at the thought of Harry pleasuring himself that he considers round three, but he needs to hustle to work, so he takes a picture of his T-shirt instead highlighting the streaked, sticky white jizz in various states of drying and sends that to Harry instead.

God, they’re incorrigible.

He sends some texts to his friends inquiring about plans for Halloween and heads off to teach two yoga classes. He fuels with a scone and a biscuit left behind courtesy of his friend Harry and sends him some appreciative thoughts as he munches away on their delicious goodness.

He arrives a bit early and sets up some candles around his class, lights some sage and clears out the room, cleansing it. His first class is a fast paced flow class and he puts on some music and the class powers through and everyone had a blast going through the poses.

The second class is the Blooming Belly Prenatal and it is one of his favourites. He loves seeing the women week after week going through their powerful transformations into motherhood. He is also able to steer some referrals to his mum, which is good for his family.

As the ladies filter in, soft music plays in the background, they set up their mats and bolsters and begin stretching and connecting. As they’re checking in with one another for the week talking about revelations, aches and pains, birth plans and the like they, all eyes turn to the late entrant.

A gorgeous curly haired boy enters, head down, respectfully and picks a spot in the back. When it’s his turn, he introduces himself, “Hullo, my name is Harry and I’m 16 weeks pregnant. It is my first baby and my first prenatal yoga class. I’m happy to be here with you. You’re all so beautiful.” He offers the class a warm Styles smile with dimples on full display and looks at Louis who is beaming back at him.

“Hello, Harry!” the class greets very warmly and a few of them swoon a bit at their charismatic classmate.  

Louis leads them through some warm-up exercises and brings them through the series of downward dog and warrior poses, then triangle, tree and child’s pose. He spends some time walking around the class making sure everyone’s form was on point.

If he spent a little more time with Harry correcting his poses, pulling his hips back and giving him loving squeezes and lingering touches, then that’s between them.  Harry seems to notice if his quirked grin is evidence.

Also, he wore a tank top and the broken capillaries from his bite mark were fully visible and it is driving Louis nuts. He’s hoping he doesn’t pop up during prenatal—that would be a first indeed. His eyes keep being drawn back to Harry’s shoulder, those teeth searing into his brain… _Mine mine mine mine mine_ …..

As the class was winding up, the students were in savasana connecting to themselves and to the babies in their bellies. Louis walked around spraying some calming lavender essential oil and swirling a wand around a Tibetan singing bowl strolling through the rows of students ensuring the zen was spread around evenly.

He got to Harry who was smiling, eyes closed with tears leaking down his cheeks. Louis knelt down checking in and was met with a full-hearted look. Harry was so happy and it showed. A strike of satisfaction settled deep in his soul and he ruffled Harry’s sweaty locks playfully.  Harry is happy and he might have had a part in it. Selfish, maybe, but at the moment he counts it as a win. In the spirit of oneness, everyone wins. The tiniest voice whispers in his head ‘soulmate’ and he gets a full body chill.

How did he get so lucky?

After class, the students talk amongst themselves and a certain someone is very popular. Louis observes him interacting with the women enthusiastically and humbly answering questions and sharing in the community vibe of the class. There’s nothing disingenuous about Harry and people are drawn to him.

No matter who was talking to him, his eyes kept finding their way back to Harry. Always Harry. It got to the point that he made an extra conscientious effort pay attention to the woman before him attempting to engage him.   _Active listening, Tommo_. His pull back to Harry was undeniable and it certainly hijacked his attention despite his very best efforts.

After the third or fourth woman rubbed Harry’s belly, he notes a bit of irritation in his being and takes a few cleansing yogic breaths and found his legs taking him right toward the Harry cloud. He lacks control as he places his arm on Harry’s shoulder and interrupts the conversation with a “If you’re quite finished?” The women look a bit confused and thank Louis for a great class and disperse.

Harry turns toward Louis as the last woman leaves the room and immediately brings him into an embrace and plants a big kiss on the cheek. Louis initially feels his body pull away from the affection out of professional reasons but as soon as he’s in Harry’s arms, he lets himself go pliant and goes in for a cheek kiss of his own and one more closer to his mouth and one more, a quick one right on the lips.

He is the epitome of pathetic and unprofessional but at the moment, he is not concerned. “Harry, what a pleasant surprise,” he leans in further and puts his lips right in Harry’s ear, “I thought you’d spend the day in bed giving yourself these,” his index finger traced the outline of the bite.

Harry hissed and backs away a bit and eskimo kisses their noses together and goes in for another long hug. He whispers, “Thought I’d surprise you. Lou, this class was amazing. You are such a great teacher. The ladies in here were so welcoming and I felt right at home.” _Home, there’s that word again._ “Thank you, Lou,” he says as he goes in for a sneaky ear lobe lick.  

“Harry, can I take you out to lunch? Or take you back to my place or …. I, I just want to be with you, spend time. Don’t care what we do,” he breathes out while stroking Harry’s tank top making sure he was angled away from the door in case any nosy people get curious and peek in.

“I’d love to,” he responds, taking a handful of Louis’ loose T-shirt, pulling it down by the hem, letting his fingers drift South ghosting over Louis’ bulge. His lips purse and Louis can sense what’s coming next and a pit burns in his stomach.  “But I’m meeting some friends for lunch and a revision session.”

Harry gives the hem a final tug and a gentle rub to Louis’ tight yoga pants down the thighs and back up the inseam. “Sorry,” he apologizes and blows him a kiss and turns to leave. “Glad, I got to see you here,” he calls from the class door.

Louis, a little stun-struck, and afraid to move sure his cock is giving all his motivations away shuffles self-consciously through the yoga studio’s lobby and out the door after Harry with his hands carefully covering his family jewel. “What about later?” he calls to Harry’s back.  

He shrugs and drawls, “Dunno? I think one of my friends is having a Halloween party, but my costume is dumb so I don’t know if I’ll go.”

There’s a bit of suspense that Louis can feel his body raising up and his ears start to ring and the pressure feels like he’s deep underwater.  His skin tingles but his body doesn’t move. He feels his heart pounding in his chest and he would be out of breath but he isn’t breathing. Lungs frozen. It’s his turn to step up and make a move and Harry just stands waiting for him with a neutral expression, with perhaps a bit of questioning in his eyes but Louis is so out of his body that the details don’t register.

“Text you later,” Harry calls from the car and drives off.

After a few long, drawn out seconds, Louis returns to his body and makes his way back to the studio to pack up. He hustles to his room and gathers his belongings quickly and would not like to interact with any more people today. He pulls out his phone and looks busy with it so no one will talk to him as he walks briskly toward the exit.

“Hey, Lou,” the young blonde haired woman calls out from behind the desk. He looks up, smiles fakely in an attempt to appease her and continues walking determined to get through the door without another word. “Lou! Come here, please. I have a question for you.” He stops and quietly walks toward the counter, eyes trained on something in the distance. She leans forward, props her elbows up and points toward the parking lot. “Do you know him? He was in your prenatal class. Kind of odd,” and scrunches up her face.

“Yes, I do,” he clips. He feels an output of information on the tip of his tongue and bites it. None of her business.

“Gosh, he is gorgeous. Do you know if he is single?” she says quietly, a blush reddening up her cheeks.

“He’s not,” he blurts a bit bitchily and turns to go.

“Wait, Louis, he’s not what?” a question painted on her face like she doesn’t quite get it.

“He’s not available,” he glares, then nods and heads out. _Fuck everyone today._

His body burns all the way to the parking lot. The thought of Harry with someone else incensed him and he balls his hand up in a fist and imagines punching through walls _. What an indecent question_ , he fumes. Nothing relieves this tension. He feels his face getting red with anger and he wants to scream in frustration.

He tosses his bag in the car, then grabs it out again. His mind is not right. He needs a walk to calm his ass down. He slips on his aviators and tries to go incognito as he processes these strong emotions.

He weaves through some streets around the neighborhood and after several rounds of pranayama cyclic breathing, he finally calms down somewhat as long has he can put distance between what he sees as him and Harry together and the thought of Harry with anyone else—or else his sanity is a powder keg.  That shit is forbidden to enter his mind. He wills all those visions away of Harry with Zain or Harry making out with some other man or Harry with anyone who can whisk him away from Louis.

Everyone is suspect.  His nerves are still feeling raw and he’s not quite in his body, but he can fake it for a few minutes until he gets a cuppa and then back to the streets. He sets his internal compass to a coffee shop he’s been meaning to try and zen walks there paying attention to nothing but his breath, cool air breathing in, warm air breathing out.

When he arrives, there’s a dad in a dinosaur costume struggling to push the stroller out while holding a steaming cup of something.  Louis jumps in and holds the door earning a grateful look and thanks from the man. _Humans aren’t so bad_ , he thought. He takes a breath and the scents of fresh pastries and roasted coffee beans flood his senses.

He walks in and steps back trying to take in the whole selection of teas in his purview. He cranes his neck back and focuses his eyes on the descriptions. He’s not old but damn the lettering is so small he feels like a geezer doing something basic like reading.

There are a quite a few he’s never heard of some sound downright exotic. This is living. He hooks his index finger up to his mouth and gives it all another read. Ceylon Sunrise, that’s the one. T’was the first one that jumped out at him. He’s been feeling so unsure of himself, lately, it’s a good exercise to trust his instincts, so he goes for it.

He orders it and two pastries that both wanted to go home with him and heads toward the door. A hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks. He hears his name and spins around on the ball of his foot like an ice skater to find a happy Harry smiling back at him.

“Another pleasant surprise, Hazza,” he coos and pops his hip out a little bit and reaches for Harry's love handles.  Being sexy is in his DNA; he’s not one to deny nature.

All he sees are smiling eyes and dimples until the sounds come, “I know I wasn’t expecting to see you until next week or so. I love that the universe didn’t make me wait,” Harry says quietly all up in Louis’ personal space.  

 _If you keep talking like this I’m going to marry you, possibly tomorrow!_ , Louis’ heart exclaims pounding hard in his chest then fluttering like it is flirting with Harry’s. “Is this where you’re studying?” he asks instead of the question that’s been on the tip of his tongue and surface of his soul.

Harry nods, “Would you like to meet my friends?” and reaches out to take Louis by the hand but moves further up to a more platonic location on his forearm.

Louis, in fact doesn’t want to, but allows himself to be led through the café. Seems it’s a better choice than whipping his dick out and pissing on every possible perimeter surrounding Harry, marking his territory until the end of time.

His demeanor changes as he approaches the table. The congenial table partners look young and too young to be out without a parental escort.  He gets a shiver and feels like a real adult, and by that, a fucking perv who clearly wants to fuck teenage Harry fourteen ways to Tuesday. He straightens his posture and smiles when Harry introduces him to his classmates as his friend Louis.

He ducks out with a quick good bye when the questions start coming not wanting to lie to a bunch of impressionable teenagers. Harry can’t lie but that’s his problem and he doesn’t want to stand around and watch him betray himself in front of his friends. Never wants to see that side of Harry.  

 ...........

Fresh October air slaps some sense into him. _Holy shit, boundaries Tommo. You’re going to be a doctor. You can’t go fucking teenagers, Tommo. You can’t fuck your patients, Dr. Tomlinson,_ he scolds himself as he makes his way toward the nearest open space.

He can’t breathe and he feels watched by every judgmental higher being.

The universe shakes its parental index finger at him. He must be disappointing one of his guides. Maybe all of them. He’s going to have to repeat this life, too, no nirvana or enlightenment for him. Keeps fucking up.  

Here he is dedicated to a life of love, community and mental health and here he is angry, shutting down emotionally and going nutty. The numbers 26 and 17 floated around his head burning into the frontal lobe. He knows better. He’s got to leave Harry alone. Harry deserves better and Louis is an adult capable of making rational choices. Just because Harry is a hot piece of ass and has the best of everything that Louis has ever encountered, still no.

He’s off-limits. 26 and 17, 26 and 17. His skin feels clammy and he grips tighter to the warm cuppa willing it to spread heat to the parts of his body that are dying with the decision to deny Harry entry to his life.

He dumps the untouched pastries out on the ground as a gift for the squirrels and birds and hoofs it back to the car bypassing any route that would lead him by the café. Can’t risk running into Harry particularly when he’s just getting acquainted with his inner strength. His solar plexus chakra is giving him the side-eye but he ignores it and pretends he is strong. Determination in every step. Got to leave Harry alone. Got to keep things professional.  _For Harry and the baby's sake._

  ..........

Hours pass at home and he’s no stronger than he was. He envisions seeing Harry and having a strong wall up that’s impenetrable to the most persuasive forces like Harry’s charm.  Hours pass and hours pass. He feels dead like a zombie.  At least his costume is figured out.

He turned his phone off hours ago to bolster up his defenses against Harry who might contact him. He musters up a tiny bit of energy and finds himself in the car heading to his parents’ house. He’s unfocused and it is a good thing it is still twilight because if it were any darker he might hit a trick-or-treater. That would be a bad one.

He arrives at his parents’ house and seems like every light in the house is on but he doesn’t see his mum’s car. _Odd_ , he thinks as he opens the door to a dance party going on in the living room. Music’s playing loudly and his sisters are in various states of costume. They don’t even notice him until he walks in the middle of their dance bubble and announces, “Where’s mum?”

His sisters yelp and squeal and give him hugs but they don’t answer his question. Typical. He wanders through the house and hears gentle sounds coming from the kitchen. The youngest twins are sat at the table in their high chairs and are being spooned some food by a certain curly haired man speaking kindly to them encouraging them to eat, whom he did not expect to see in this house ever, let alone tonight.

He stands at the door taking it all in and internally pinches himself to make sure he is not in the middle of a mental breakdown. While he can’t be certain, he hazards a noise drawing attention to himself clearing his throat dramatically. The curly hair flies up and he’s met with a slightly stressed out caregiver and then a soft smile.

“Lou, we’ve been calling you. Your mum and me,” a hint of pain and desperation in his voice. “Your mum got called in to a birth, so I said I’d take the kids out trick-or-treating.” Where-the-fuck-have-you-been? bold-typed on his face, though his eyes tamp it down for the kids’ sake.

Louis feels the lump in his throat become a rock and he’s trying to swallow past it, but he can’t.  He knows he fucked up and his mum must have been worried and probably felt unsupported by her eldest child she probably knows has no life and could have easily been here hours ago.

Without a word, he sits at the table with Harry and takes a spoon from him and begins feeding Ernie his mac and cheese.  After a few bites, he leans his head sideways and puts it on Harry’s shoulder and rasps out, “Sorry Haz.” Harry tips his head over his and they nuzzle a bit. Just this connection puts them both at ease and they exhale together.

Harry catches him up on what’s going on with the status of the costumes and some of the infighting. Things are a bit tense but all-in-all, they’re having a good time. It’s his first time being alone with them and it’s slightly overwhelming.  It’s just that you can’t control chaos, a lesson that everyone learns, or not.

In spite of his pep talk and meditations and vows of every intention to do differently, he finds himself bracketing Harry to the countertop, rolling his pelvis, popping up on his tippie toes, tilting his head and closing his eyes. He feels Harry’s large warm hands on his waist grounding him and then his plush lips bringing Louis back to life again.

As their tongues slide together Louis feels reborn. Phoenix. Risen from the dead. The swirling vitality wakes up in his spine and Harry’s too as connection doesn’t lie and they take their kiss deeper, ever deeper.

He feels himself traveling weightlessly on the waves of pleasure, everything is bright and he feels surrounded in a bubble of pure love. He envisions making love to Harry against the edge of his bed, pressing Harry deeply into the mountain of pillows and pulling his hair. It’s like a lucid wet dream that’s interrupted by the sound of clapping hands and cooing.

Harry pulls off begrudgingly, blinks his eyes and sees Ernie and Doris clapping at them enthusiastically and making happy noises.  

They both laugh and go to pick the babies up out of their high chairs, take off their bibs and give them a snuggle. There’s a very good chance the twins won’t remember anything about this so Louis presses his luck and gives Harry a few more kisses on the cheek. One for Ernie, one for Harry. One for Doris, one for Louis.

They just can’t help themselves. It’s amazing that they haven’t been busted by one of the other sisters yet when Lottie walks in dressed as a sexy fairy. It’s his good fortune that they were currently between kisses and hopefully appear fairly innocent.

“Jeez, you two done yet?” she smiles and shakes her head at them.

“What do you mean?” Louis fires reflexively glaring at her as Harry buries his face in Doris’ hair pressing kisses to the top of her head.

She gives him an innocent look and points to the children. “Are you two done with them? Feeding them,” then she smiles like the cat that ate the canary, “Why? What did you think I meant?” She comes closer and inspects the two of them like she’s from Scotland Yard.

Harry keeps his head down but starts laughing nervously unable to contain his anxiety.  “You look guilty, Lou. It’s not a good look on you… but the blush is,” she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and watches them.

Louis meets her glare with one of his own like big brother’s gonna handle this.

She laughs in his face and points at him.  “You’re so obvious, Jesus Lou, five minutes ago you two were practically boning in the kitchen and now, you’re so full of shit.” She covers her mouth and her shoulders shake with laughter.

“Lottie, it’s probably not what it looked like,” he lied and started laughing, too, because he’s 100% sure it looked like they were going to fuck any second. That’s how it felt.

Harry looked up and then squeezed his eyes shut, threw his head back and started laughing hysterically.

“Lou, are you fucking Harry the babysitter? What is going on? What does mum know about this?”

He raised his index finger at her as a warning and looked sternly at her, “Mum doesn’t know anything about this. You cannot tell her.”

“I’m not agreeing to this until you answer the last question,” she asserts boldly as a bit of a power play.

“Which is….?” he asks annoyed as fuck but ready to make a deal.

“Are you fucking Harry the babysitter?” she looks at him dead ass and there’s no pretty way out.

He thinks on it for a few beats and dares not to look at Harry who has gone stock still and tense at his side, “Define fucking,” he states and as soon as he does he realizes it was the stupidest thing he could have said. Deny deny deny. Damn it.

She clutches her belly and laughs and laughs, her body shaking like it was truly the stupidest, most absurd thing she’d ever heard. She carefully wipes the tears from her face, dabbing them not to disturb her fleeked-out makeup and points to the two of them and says “Guilty,” and stumbles out laughing.

Harry looks pale and stricken. The only sign of life is the toddler playing with his curls and trying to put her wittle fist in his mouf as he play eats it. He looks over and gives Louis a dire expression, eyes wide, mouth in a straight line like a cartoon character.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He reaches over to Harry and rubs soothingly on his shoulders and the back of his neck. “I got you. Don’t worry about Lottie. I can bribe her or summat,” he smiles not truly believing what is coming out of his mouth.

Then Harry sits up straight, looks ahead like a robot and says, “Ummm, define fucking,” waits two beats and busts up laughing.

They keep repeating it like fools and cracking up. This must be some alternate universe because they can’t get enough of themselves. Comedians, the both of them, making each other howl like wolves.

“You know, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if your mum did know,” Harry says softly, “about us.” He swallows thickly and looks away unable to see any reaction that isn’t affirming his sentiment.

“Soon, ok?” he lies to put Harry at ease. “Why? Did you tell your mum?” he inquires with anxiety lacing his voice tightly.

Harry hems and haws a bit, “Not exactly, but I think she has her suspicions. I mean she saw the picture of you with the baby jumper and the dummy. And your avatar, and she might have seen a love bite or two, so…”

“Ok, well I guess we’ll talk about how to bring it up,” he pauses, genuine this time, “when we are both ready.” They both nod and kiss on it.

“What do you say we get the kids ready and go trick-or-treating?” Harry announces with a ceremonious fist in the air.

“I like the sound of that Harry the babysitter. Let’s go,” he cheers them on and looks down to Ernie and Doris who have been quietly enrapt in their discussions, “What do you think little miss and little mister? Are you ready?” Louis coos. Ernie smiles and Doris looks between him and Harry and makes a kissy lips and smooching noises. Busted.

A half hour later and everyone is ready. Louis had no costume, so Harry painted his face white with a black star around the eye. Good enough. The twin girls are princesses, Harry and the younger twins are pumpkins,  Fizzy is a kitty and Lottie is a fairy who is a little too skimpy so Louis convinces her to cover it up a little bit. He insisted it’s not a burlesque show after all, which led to some stilted, hushed heated banter and promises of a trip to the movies with her friends and a little spree at Sephora. Louis agreed to both easily in exchange for silence. He said he needed to go there anyway to get bath bombs and bubbles. She scoffed at him and said something about the benefits of having a gay brother which gave the three of them a right laugh.

He also thought combining it with a trip to the movies with Harry could be a fine date as well but kept that information to himself and allowed the thought to fill his heart with love without beating himself up about having these feelings for Harry. 26 and 17.  26 and 17.

Their little army of trick-or-treaters took the neighborhood by storm and two hours later, the twins were passed out in Harry and Louis’ arms and the crew headed back with their loot. Jay texted Harry and said she wouldn’t be home until the morning and asked if it was it ok with him to stay and put the kids to bed. He agreed. He considered mentioning that Louis was there, too, but decided against it in favor of playing house with his honey and hopefully getting to sleep together even if on the sofa. He also asked Louis to text his mum and he assumes she knows he is there, too. Best not to ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to. He quickly texts his own mum who wishes him spooktacular Halloween with a bunch of emojis.

Harry and Louis permit the kids to have two pieces of candy each and then a cup of chamomile tea, teeth brushed twice as long as usual and then bedtime. Louis gets the younger kids ready for bed with tooth brushing, jammies, kisses and bedtime stories as Harry ensures everyone else is cared for and the downstairs is tidied.  And he may have fallen asleep in his mum’s bed with the twins but he didn’t realize it until he was woken up with gentle kisses from his one and only. “Hi, Pumpkin,” he calls out quietly in a sleep haze.

“Hello, my star,” Harry responds kissing his head.

The name struck him like a punch in the gut. “This is awkward but can you not call me that? That was a nickname from the past and I prefer it stay there,” he says tersely but looks up to show Harry that he is sincere and doesn’t hold it against him.

They take the twins to their shared room and place them gently in their cribs. Louis turns on the white noise maker and the night light and mostly closes the door.

Harry comes up behind him and whispers, “Your mum said one of us could have her bed if we want and that there’s linens in the airing cupboard. Or the sofa, but she said it is not that great to sleep on. What do you think?” he mouths at Louis’ ear and along the column of his neck sucking gently, “Would you like to have a sleepover with me?”

Louis lets his head loll back onto Harry’s shoulder as he is held securely in Harry’s arms. “Mmmmmm, that could be fun. What did you have in mind?”

“I would love it if you would mark me. Mine are fading. And I’d love it if you would bite me a little bit and pull my hair,” he playfully bites Louis’ neck causing him to jump with antsy anticipation. “I need that from you,” he hisses pressing his hands in the dips of Louis’ hips digging his fingers in. “I am open to hearing your needs, too.”

Melting, puddle, boneless are the only things that come across Louis’ mind as he sinks into Harry’s touch moaning and grinding back against him. Harry leads him backward to his mum and Dan’s bedroom. Louis jumps out and grabs a few sets of blankets to lay over the bed and pillows. He decided to do it the Tommo way which is the one that requires the least amount of effort.

After the bed is transformed into a proper love nest with the magic of comforters and duvets, Harry runs downstairs to get them some water. He remembers seeing a lighter in the kitchen drawer and some candles throughout the house, so he snags up as many as he could hold. He quickly deposits them down in the bedroom, lighting them and setting the mood.

He jumps in the hall bathroom for a quick leak and to rub his teeth with toothpaste and rinse with mouthwash. Seems Louis had the same idea because when he got back in the room, he was immediately pushed up against the wall, facing it and smelled mint coming from the mouth that was biting at his neck and pulling his clothes off with a hot hit of aggression.

He heard the sound of the bedroom door lock and his ears picked up the slow jams coming from Louis’ iPhone and he knew it was business time. He feels his arsehole quiver a bit in what he hopes will be some genuine love making at last. Two months is more than enough time to wait, especially with this guy who has been on mind and on his cock lately.

Louis strips the last piece of clothing off of his lover and bends him forward to smell his arse, biting at his cheeks. “This is what I want, Harry,” he takes his middle finger and glides it up and down Harry’s moist crack. He feels Harry’s arsehole pucker as he strokes it with his finger. “Harry your body’s begging for it, but I don’t want to do anything you are not ready for. I know we’ve been taking our time with this.”

“I’m ready, Lou,” Harry says quickly and catches himself sounding desperate and then decides to go for it. “I mean, I’m ready. I want this. I think about it all the time. I want to make love with you. I want to be yours,” spoken soft and sincerely. “Do you want to make love with me, Lou?” he says turning around to look him in the eye and jumps back when he sees Louis is still in some make up. He got the black star off but wasn’t able to get all the white off.

“I couldn’t get it off and didn’t want to waste any more time because I want to get you off. Want to be inside of you now.  Want to feel your heat on my cock as I fuck deeply into you. Want to feel you shake and hear you beg for it.” He leads Harry to the bed, lays him down gently and then rolls on top of him straddling his hips being mindful of the bump. He leans forward and lets him know, “Want to hear you call my name.”

Harry’s body keens hearing the words and feels an incredible smile break onto his face. He reaches up to hold Louis’ cheeks dragging him down into a kiss. As the kiss deepens, he feels undulations of passion roll through his body. He feels his cock fattening and his backside become receptive. He wiggles it around a little bit to get his muscles warmed up.

Suddenly Louis sits up and looks worried. “Oh, god, Harry I don’t have any lube or a condom…I didn’t even think…nope…” he sits back on his haunches and puts his face in his hands cursing himself.

Harry lies there stroking his cock with his bare hand when he’s struck with an idea. He scrunches up his face, “Do you think your mum has some? I mean….”

“That is gross,” Louis pauses, “but brilliant. On one condition, you look through the drawers. I don’t want to know,” he shakes involuntarily and makes a blerugh wretching noise. Unattractive.

Harry rolls over on his side and goes to the bedside table on the right side. Nothing but hairbands and knick-knacks. He goes to the left side and rummages around. “A-ha, so you don’t want to know but there are some mags here if you need any inspiration. I know I don’t and I found this,” he presents the bottle of warming Astroglide proudly to Louis with a wink. No condoms though. Not sure how you feel about that,” his voice trails off as if he knows it could be a deal breaker and it bums him out.

“First of all, I can’t believe this is happening, so let’s agree to laugh about this later, because…” he gets lost in thought and fades out. “I mean, as long as I know I am clean. I have only ever been with one person, but he may have cheated on me which is something I just found out about recently….and am still processing.”

“I’m so sorry, Louis. You don’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve your heart.” Harry says earnestly looking Louis right in the eyes transmitting his sincerity.

Louis smiles meekly and has a flashback to practically fucking Harry all weekend at the cabin while he was technically in a relationship, so he is really not much better. Stones and glass houses.

He’s not in the mood for metaphor, he’s ready to take it to the next level with this exquisite man. He pushes that reality back focusing on the here and now. He pauses, looks at Harry and strokes his cheek and plants one big smooch on his lips. “You’re right about that, all of it. But there are risks. It’s embarrassing to admit this but I haven’t had sex in probably six months and we used condoms for the last year or two because he didn’t like the way it felt anymore without, which I always thought was strange, but I didn’t question it.” Harry nods. “So for me, the risk is low. I haven’t run out and gotten tested or anything but will do so sooner than later. Zain and I talked about it and he kind of helped me see that that was the only thing that I could do to find closure and move on,” he says quietly, voice fading a bit.

Harry strokes his arm, “Maybe that is something we could do together. I mean, obviously I wasn’t using any protection but we were both virgins as far as I know. And I’m pretty sure because each time he lasted about 5 seconds. And I’ve only had sex maybe three times and it wasn’t nice for me. I don’t know how to say it, but it was bad every time. I kind of thought that sex should always be pretty fun and good but so far, it’s been ehhh really disappointing at best,” he scrunches his face and raises his shoulders shrugging them, pouting.

“Well, that’s a lot of pressure for a guy to live up to,” he teases with a pinch to Harry’s lovehandles. “I’m not sure I’m up to the task.”

"Oh, you are!" Harry takes control now. He rolls him over and pushes Louis down on the bed. He holds both of Louis’ wrists in one hand and pulls them with a bit of force above his head securely pinning them to the pillows. He places one knee on Louis’ thigh as a restraint and kisses his chest, suckling on a nipple biting him as he makes his way to his collarbones.

“Gah, your collarbones. Do you have any idea how much I want to fuck you when you wear that reddish jumper with the wide neck? It’s fucking torture. I see those collarbones and I just want to run my tongue in there and nibble them. He reaches down and starts stroking Louis’ cock causing the older man to moan and writhe on the bed.  “And, I know now that it was just…it will be different with you. We’re different.” He straightens his arm and applies deeper pressure to the thigh effectively silencing Louis to a whimper.

“I can’t wait to have my turn with you, too. Been dreaming of it. This”—he bites his shoulder in the same place and lets out a moan of his own—“was you riding me after I ate you out in the bathtub,” he mouths but lets his right hand do all the speaking as it strokes Louis in such a way that makes his eyes roll back in his head and huff out Harry’s name in between breaths.

“But tonight I want you to fuck me, Lou. Let’s make love, Lou. I want to make love with you. Wanna feel you.” He bends forward and replaces his hand with his mouth taking Louis’ cock all the way down until it hits the back of his throat. He angles his body in such a way that his arse is in the air facing Louis and his throat is securely wrapped around his lover. Unexpectedly, an arm must have slipped free because he feels Louis rub a lubed up finger around his hole and he gasps and keeps sucking. Louis strokes his hole and inserts his middle finger when he feels Harry’s body open for him. All of this must have been overwhelming for Harry because he started sucking that dick with abandon and moments later Louis shot a load of come down his throat. Was there warning? Hard to say. Just a lot of heavy breathing and panting.

After a moment he let Louis’ limp dick fall from his mouth sheepishly and Louis pushed on his bottom to get him to turn around and spun his finger around. Louis musters up the use of his tongue and utters, “Amazing. Turn around. Let me open… you.” He offers Harry some water before guiding him on his back, places a pillow under his head, one under his hips and rests his ankles on Louis’ shoulders. “Want to make this really good for you, Harry. Going to make you come tonight.”

With that Harry moans deeply and puts a hand over his mouth to shush himself. They are in a house full of children after all so they need to be quiet. “Gonna get you so hard, Harry, you’ll be begging for it. And I’m going to take care of you. Going to take care of you, Harry. Always.”

Hearing those words puts Harry even more at ease and he can feel himself relaxing around Louis’ finger that gently gliding in and out of his bum. “This feels so good, Lou. Never had this before.”

“Never? Well, I’m honoured. Let me know when you are ready for another finger, ok?”

“M’almost ready. Will it hurt?” he asks meekly.

“You’ll feel the pressure and the stretch but if it hurts you, I’ll go slower. Always going to take care of you, Harry,” he stretches between Harry’s legs, fingers still in Harry’s rectum but he leans up and Harry meets him halfway for a loving kiss. “You are so special to me. I can’t even describe it. Just so happy with you.”

Louis gives him one more peck and goes back to work. He squirts more lube on his fingers and teases Harry with a second finger. He feels his sphincter open a bit more and Harry exhales.

He hears Harry say he’s ready and he carefully inserts a second finger ever so slowly until Harry rocks his back into  Louis’ fingers indicating he’s enjoying it and setting the pace. Louis begins scissoring his fingers and spreading Harry a bit more and then he crooks his finger towards the tailbone and gives it a stroke causing Harry to squirm and he made so much noise he put a pillow over his own face. He goes back in for some more strokes over the prostate and Harry is flailing on the bed making it hard to keep his mark. He feels Harry open up a bit more and he slips a third finger in his rectum. If there was a human example of coming undone this was it. Harry moaned and bucked losing rhythm and Louis’ finger tickled his G-spot making his body shake. He was ready.

Louis removed his fingers and Harry gasped at the loss of contact. “Sweetheart, could you? Do you think you could look at me like we did at the cabin?”

“Gazing?” Harry offers brightly.

Louis mmmmmmms in response and settles between Harry’s legs, holding hands in the way they were taught. “You comfortable like that, Hun? My hands are kind of sticky. Sorry about that.” Harry smiles back in response already focusing on his breath and preparing himself.

After a few beats their breaths synced up and after a mutual squeeze they opened their eyes and began sinking deeply into each other. They could feel the loving energy surrounding their bodies, buoyant in it.

As Harry gazed into Louis’ left eye he felt immediately transported back to that place that place of pure love. He can see Louis there and his baby as well. He feels their energies intermixed and his spirit soars. There are so many colours that fly across his mind’s eye that he’s never seen before in this life. He sees dimensions opening up before him and at the first twinge of nervousness, he sees Louis reach for him and take him in his arms. Safe. Home.

Louis is instantly brought back to their deep, deep soul connection. It is a beacon of truth for his soul like a lighthouse leading his ship safely home. He sees his fears as strings holding him and he quickly disengages them with a quick thrust of his torso and he’s flying. He sees familiar beings. His guide comes down and envelops him in an embrace whispering words his human brain doesn’t understand but his spirit seems to get them.

His hand feels the warmth of Harry on the left and the universe’s pure loving energy on the right. He looks at the Harry being he sees and another world opens up and they are surrounded by children and love and joy. He sees a version of himself coming from the background to the foreground arms out, body moving like he is desperately trying to pass on a message to his earthbound self and as he gets closer Louis panics and breaks the gaze. He closes his eyes feeling tender. He saw so much beauty and then was unable to accept the message and felt a bit embarrassed.  He’s hoping Harry doesn’t see the weakness in his eyes.

Harry leans over on his side and props himself up a bit as he is unable to sit straight up anymore due to the bump and weakened abdominal muscles. He reaches out for Louis who feels a tear then more roll down his cheeks. “You are so beautiful, Lou. Every piece of you. Thank you for sharing yourself with me. Means more than I could ever express. Hope you know that,” he whispers suredly as he wipes off his lover’s cheeks with his hands.

Louis chokes down more tears and puts up a brave façade for a moment before breaking down telling Harry that he was unable to get the message from his spirit being.

Harry grapples him and pulls him into a full body snuggle, lining up their chakras. He rubs Louis’ hair and lovingly conveys, “Lou, I saw you there and I see you now. You are incredible. You are so beautiful and bright and loving and are surrounded by beings that love you. You don’t need to be afraid of anything at all. There’s nothing but love around you and me and us and—“ Louis pats Harry’s belly—“yup, I see love around the baby, too,” and with that he starts sobbing, too. “It’s…it’s…beautiful….the…most…beautiful….thing,” he eeks out in between gasps and choppy breathing. “I know you see it too, right?” Harry asks hoping beyond hope that he does. Louis nods and smiles down at him. “Let’s just enjoy each other, ok?”

“Ok,” he lets himself go boneless in Harry’s arms. It is the closest thing he’s felt to being able to experience that pure love energy his soul knows best.

They kiss like their lives depend on it. Each kiss drawing them deeper and deeper together.

“This is wild but do you think we could try to gaze while we make love?” Harry asks with otherworldly diamonds twinkling in his eyes calling Louis home.

“Of course. Are you ready?”

Harry nods as Louis coats his hands with lube and inserts them into Harry again to make sure, crooking his finger against Harry’s magic bean just to make sure he’s at least halfway there because Louis has never been in his position before with the connection being so strong, he might come instantly but since he just came 20 minutes ago, he’s hoping he can last at least a few meaningful thrusts.

Harry draws him into a kiss and slips a lubed hand around himself to stroke himself into a fine, upstanding erection.

Louis invokes Pan, the god of sex from Roman mythology and draws as much willpower as he can from as many planes as he can access. With a final consenting gesture from Harry, he lines himself up and waits for their eyes to meet and the gaze to begin and as Harry opens, he slips himself in. Harry’s head pushes back deeply into to pillow behind him and his hips begin to rock against Louis’. Their connection syncs up and they start following the pleasure.

Harry opens his eyes again and finds Louis’ waiting for him, open and inviting. He inches slowly in and matches Harry’s motions. Harry breaks the gaze and rolls his head around pulling on his hair.

Louis takes his hands and grabs Harry by the haunches to pull him further down and he angles himself just so and starts stroking deeply into Harry. He can tell he is hitting his spot because Harry is wriggling and limbs moving and belly bouncing and he’s so gorgeous Louis has to look away.

He sees lines of energy connecting their bodies and he lets himself get pulled into that like a sex vortex, following the swirls and patterns of light between them until Harry is biting his shoulder. Louis looks away and takes all of a split second to maneuver his body so that he can connect to Harry’s lips. They deepen their kiss and they can feel colours all around them enveloping them. The angle got wonky so Louis readjusted and went at it with renewed vigor. Harry dug his nails into Louis’ back and dragged down. Louis arched his back and kept hitting it until Harry came so hard, it shot over his belly and landed on his chest. Seeing his come -streaked belly was all it took and Louis dove with him right over the edge, pulling out at the last second and coming on Harry’s belly and chest.

As their breaths evened out, Louis found himself slotted right at Harry’s side, holding him close. He saw Harry’s hands swirl patterns on his own belly with their mixed come and sucked a fingerful in his mouth. With a very self-satisfied look he turns to Louis and tips his chin up to meet his eyes and says “I love us, Lou.”

His heart felt light and bright like thousands of fireworks were exploding inside, and he smiles back and says, “I love us, too, Harry.”

............

They awoke to the sound of a jingling door handle and answered together, “Just a minute.” They look at each other like they are just setting themselves up to get busted by everyone around them. They immediately decide that Louis should answer the door since it is his family and Harry will jump in the shower and get himself presentable and then they can proceed with part two of the plan: business as usual and dodge any nosy questions.

Louis slips his clothes on quickly and cleans up the lube tossing it irreverently in the drawer it came from with his eyes closed.  He ran to the door and one of his sisters, Daisy, was looking for her mummy. Louis explained that mummy had to work and that he and Harry stayed behind to watch after them. He walks her back to her room and puts her back to bed with a dolly and a book.

He hoofs it back to his mum’s room, locks the door, strips and jumps into the shower with Harry. They wash each other’s hair and Harry scrubs Louis’ face with a flannel trying to get that stubborn makeup off. Harry soaps up Louis from his feet and scrubs his pelvis extra carefully, before finally making his way up North.

Louis returns the favor and they share some lazy kisses under the water before deciding they best not test their luck and push it further in case more siblings come a' knockin’.  They finish up quickly then rinse their mouths with Listerine and comb their hair with their fingers. It’s a stylistic shitshow, but they have each other.

Louis is dressed first and he agrees to leave the room first to see if there are any more siblings awake. He returns with good news: everyone’s asleep upstairs, so they both breathe a big sigh of relief and exit the room holding hands.

Being open feels like a luxury and they’re both kind of high with it. They carry a load of blankets, all soiled with sex evidence to the laundry room and stuff it all in the washer. They kiss there against the washer and roll their hips a few times together and giggle at the sheer ridiculouslessness their lives have become in the past 15 hours.  

Louis follows Harry down the stairs chasing him with tickles causing him to trip and he nearly falls on the couch.  Louis reaches out for him to prevent Harry from falling and holds him tight. He saw an eye open from the mass of blankets on the couch and freezes, “Hello boys.”

“Hi Mum.” Louis’ voice thin and reedy.

“Good morning Mrs. Deakin,” Harry offers cheerfully, but is clearly bricking it. Before waiting for an answer, Harry starts lobbing questions, “How was your night? How was the birth? I hope the mum and baby are good. Would you like some tea?” he scoots to the kitchen before she answers any of his questions.

“Sit down, Boo.” He does reluctantly and keeps a bit of distance. “Honey, what’s going on with you and Harry?” she asks without room for ambiguity.

He feels his body get tingly and waves of numbness wash over him. He senses his leg begin to bounce up and down and he places a hand on his thigh willing it to stop shaking. “Ummm, Harry and I are close. We get on really well,” is all he offered. His tongue is frozen and he’s not saying anything more willingly.

Soon thereafter, Harry comes back in with a cuppa for everyone and sits on the couch a few feet from Louis attempting to give the impression of distance, platonic distance.

Things are tense and so Harry starts talking. “Did Louis show you the pictures from last night? Everyone looked adorable and the twins and I were matching pumpkins. It was so fun. We painted Louis’ face and we went around the neighborhood. Mrs. Deakin the kids were so well-behaved and Doris and Ernie ate all their mac and cheese.”

“Thank you, Harry. I appreciate you stepping in when I couldn’t get a hold of this guy here,” and she kicks Louis’ leg playfully with her foot. “With Dan traveling so much, it’s hard on us so I really am grateful to you. The kids have grown quite fond of you. At least that’s the report from Lottie.”

With that they both visibly cringe.

“Harry, have you babysat here before?” Louis asks with a little confusion in his voice.  Harry nods. “Why am I just learning of this now?” he teases with the words that come out of his mouth but his eyes say ‘but seriously….’ and levels an inspective gaze at him.

“I thought you two were close,” his mum jumps in and goads them.

They both look at her and Harry fills him in on the few times he’s taken care of the kids while his mum cooks or runs errands.

“Or better yet, when Harry cooks. You are so good at that. You will make a man very lucky some day, Harry. My kids never eat my fish fingers, Louis. You know they don’t. It’s a family recipe and everything, but Harry comes over and whips something up and everyone wants seconds, even the little ones. Impressive. And did you know that he taught Fizzy to make pie crust?”  Jay keeps gushing on and on and Louis tunes her out but keeps his eyes trained on Harry and his distinct look of unease.

“So, to answer your question, yes, I have. I only see you once per week, right, and it must have slipped my mind. No secrets,” Harry smiles and offers him a pinky promise.

“Harry, would you like me to take you home?” Louis offers kind of eager to get him out of the house.

“No, no stay. It’s Sunday and I invited Anne over anyway for a fry-up. She should be here any minute in fact. She wanted to come over and spend some time with us, get used to babies again. Says she doesn’t see Harry much with his busy extra-curriculars. Moms love their kids, dads, too. So let’s have an easy Sunday.”

The gravity of the situation seems to hit them both at the same time and they sink into the couch. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. Louis breaks out his phone and shows his mum some pictures from last night. She keeps reaching for it and he won’t let her have it.

“Lou!” she scolds and they have a tug-of-war with the phone. She looks at him very suspiciously but finally relents and allows him to show her the photos.

He definitely doesn’t want her to see the photos he and Harry took of themselves after they made love. Passion evident on their faces. Candlelit features, messy hair, no clothes, just love as far as the camera eye can see. It’s for their eyes only.

He hands the phone to Harry who delights in scrolling left to see their bedroom pictures. He starts to squirm a bit, flushes and hands the phone back. His mum can’t let it go and points to Harry who has full privileges to which Louis flashed her a smile and said “See, I told you we were close.” They looked at each other with heart eyes and grins. “And you’re so nosy, maybe you’d see your birthday present.”

“Or mine,” he hears Harry whisper and then the two of them say, “Define birthday” and are cracking up. Loons.

Ding dong, saved by the bell. Louis jumps up and opens the door and two women come through. An older version of Harry which must be his mum judging by the smile and a younger, sassier college version that must be… “Gems!” Harry jumps out and gives her a huge hug. I didn’t know you were in town?”

“Surprise! I wanted to see my baby brother and his baby bump. Now lift your shirt and let me see what you’ve done there.” She stands there with her hands on her hips looking expectantly at Harry.

“Here you can feel through the shirt,” he offers pretty sure Louis has marked him up and doesn’t exactly know where they end…so, that's a no.

“No way. Lift it,” she commands.

“Gems, later ok? I’m feeling kind of shy right now,” he fibs and turns to walk back toward Louis to introduce them properly. “Mrs. Deakin, this is my sister Gemma. Gemma this is my midwife, Mrs. Deakin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Gemma. Please call me Jay.”

“Mum, Gems, this is Dr. Tomlinson, my therapist,” and that’s all he said with an arse-eating grin splitting his face.

“Mrs. Styles, Gemma, pleasure to meet you. Please call me Louis,” he extends his hands to them and turns his attention on Harry. “You don’t even call me Dr. Tomlinson anymore, Harry. You don’t even call me Louis, but that’s ok,” he winks at Harry who looks slightly mortified, “That’s doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“I love that we have that,” he blurts and they both start laughing unhinged.

Gemma assesses them, sharpens her wit, “I see what you two must do. Cuddle therapy? Tickle therapy? Who knows,” she raises her eyebrows sky high, “Must be very high-end stuff. I’m pretty sure I do not want to know.”

Harry fixes his face and straightens his spine, “Actually, what’s happening here is going to be made into a doctoral thesis, so a lot of legit-ness goes into this business. You betta recognize!” he warns her with a wave of his finger and they all start cracking up.

The rest of the morning goes great until they’re all around the big kitchen table and Gemma is regaling them with tales from Uni.  There’s food and laughter until Daisy points to something on Louis’ chest. She asks Fiz who asks Lottie who whispers in Gemma’s ear who reached over and tugged down Louis’ collar revealing a series of red, fresh love bites.

Little Doris looked at Louis and made a smoochie noise and clapped her hands and everyone lost it. Lottie put her head in the crease of her elbow and smacked the table with her hands. Gemma howled unabashedly. The younger girls laughed because the older ones did. The mums look at each other and face palm. Harry and Louis look at each other from across the table and lob a series of question marks mentally between them trying to be nonchalant.

Louis feels heat under his collar so to speak and wants to protect him and Harry so his words come out a bit sharper than he intends, “My love life is not up for discussion. I’m an adult. I have one and it’s no one’s business here,” he pauses, a bit gentler, “except me and my partner.” He hopes his words will be ambiguous enough that it includes Harry but not obviously. And it felt good to announce that he had a partner. His statement was also carefully enough crafted that no one fingers Harry as well as direct enough that he hopes people will fucking drop it.  

And drop it they did. It got really quiet and people just looked between him and Harry and at their food and at each other but no one said anything, until Gemma blurted out, “Harry, what is all that white stuff in your hair. Like how would that get there?” The table erupts again initiated by Daisy who announced that Harry was a pumpkin but Louis had white makeup all over his face.  Lottie quickly presents a picture, passing it around and the evidence is damning.

Harry turns beet red and buries his face in his hands. Louis jumps in, “Look he was trying to get it off,” pointing to his skin, but not fast enough for quick witted Gemma.

“Get what off, Louis?” she fired off and gripped her belly in laughter. Too easy.

Undeterred, he continues a tad more irritated, “See, it’s still there. We both tried and we couldn’t get it off.”

Lottie jumps in and asks the obvious, “Ok, but why is it in his hair and not, say, on a flannel? Are you using Harry’s head as a scrubbie?” She literally is about to piss her pants and jumps up from the table scissoring her legs together doing the peepee dance.

“Alright. Alright.” Jay’s voice booms establishing order.

Conversation ebbs and stutters, the gauntlet has been thrown and Harry and Louis are basically sitting there silent which is highly unusual for both of them. Tension thick like throat burning incense.  

Harry joins Jay in cleaning up the breakfast dishes. She pulls him aside and indicates that she and his mum want to have a talk with him and Louis. He swallows hard and nods and continues clearing and cleaning until everyone had cleared out except the four of them. Even the babies were playing in the living room and are going to be spared this tongue lashing.

“Baby, come sit down,” Harry hears his mum over the rush of water at the sink. He turns slowly and surveys the large table for the best place to sit. So many options. He looks at Louis who pats the seat next to him with a smile.

Harry feels hopeful yet terrified. The gesture indicates that they’re starting out with honesty and that’s a great place to start, so he pads over and plops down a little too hard. His bum is still quite sore from last night’s activities.  He tries not to let it show as he schools his expression to one of open indifference. He weaves his hand onto Louis’ lap and finds his partner’s hand and gives it a squeeze. Grounding. Warm. Harry’s hands were clammy and he tried to pull his hands from Louis but Louis wouldn’t let him go.

Anne and Jay’s eyes scour over them mostly lovingly suspicious and concerned.

Jay begins, “Now, we are not here to tell you how to live, but we want you to be careful. Careful with each other and with yourselves. Louis, you are my son and I love you. I am very proud of you and you are very bright but you just got out of a long term relationship and don’t you need some time to yourself? Harry, I’ve known you for almost two months and I honest to god love you like a son. You are just such a special person and you are wonderful in every way, I really mean that—“

Anne cut in, “-but you are seventeen and 16 weeks pregnant. With someone else’s baby. Think about what you are doing. Do you even know what you are doing, Harry? Louis was assigned to be your therapist and it seems your relationship got muddled along the way. Is that right?”

“I like to think that our relationship got clearer along the way,” Harry confesses and he gets a reassuring squeeze from Louis.

“Anne, mum, I understand your concerns and I, we, appreciate them. I think I can speak for Harry on this one, too. This is something that he and I have an open dialogue about and we are figuring it out as we go. I’ve spoken to my mentor, Dr. Phillips and he is aware and he encouraged us to work it out. He is there as a resource. I went to him right away after I realized I was developing feelings for Harry and tried to get him transferred to another therapist.” He turns to Harry who looks embarrassed, “and that didn’t turn out too well, did it Harry?” They both laugh and yes, he did tell Oli to go fuck himself but the details here are not important.

“But don’t you need space to figure things out after the break up? I don’t want you to rebound on poor Harry here and break his heart. That is not ok mister. Harry is precious," Jay warns with no ounce of ambiguity.

“I know. I know. For the record, he’s been giving me space and time to work things out. I’ve been a bit of a mess recovering from the break-up even though I wanted out, still just stages of grief and adapting.  And, we’ve been taking everything really, really slow which has been hard because with Harry everything feels right. And you’re both smart ladies and can figure out there were some overlapping time frames but I can assure you that Harry did not break up my relationship, though if given the chance to choose, I would pick Harry every time. I would pick him because he is the loveliest human being I’ve ever met, he’s precious like you said and we have a deep connection among other things.”

“Ok, but what about his therapy? Are you able to do that without bias?” Anne asked concerned. “I like you, Louis, but I love Harry and I want Harry to go through this big transition with as much love and support as possible.”

He reaches over to Anne and touches her forearm and assures, “We want the same things for him. And as Harry mentioned earlier, he is the topic of my dissertation so we are being extra careful to make sure he is properly assessed, interviewed and given the most supportive environment to process this experience in.”

“How do you know that your results are not based on fact that Harry is in love with you?” Anne asks directly.

Jay chimes in, “Yes, I’ve been thinking about this, too. And how do you factor in your influence because from an outside observer it looks like you are falling in love with him, too.”

“All good, valid points, but I am most concerned about Harry as a person and not as much about the data from my paper. So, my focus as an objective practitioner is to provide for Harry in a manner that would have no influence if we were in a relationship or not. In fact, we have been taking it so slow on that front deliberately that we haven’t actually declared what we are to each other, but I feel very comfortable telling you that my feelings for him are deep and if he wanted to be my boyfriend I wouldn’t say no, but I would say that I still wanted to take everything slow."

Harry yanks his arm, “Lou, do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Louis whispers back privately, “In my mind, we are already married,” prompting a squeal from Harry. Then a bit louder, “But, yes, boyfriend is a first step and we can start there even if, yes a good place to start, if you’ll have me.”

“Yes, yes I do. Yes, I will. Of course, always you,” Harry responds clearly as if to convey the intention in his heart.

They make heart eyes at each other and seal it with a little kiss to the utter shock of their mums who look on in slight disbelief that this.is.happening.

“Just please be careful. And be extra open with each other. Lou, you tend to hold things in and you need to practice expressing yourself.”

Anne adds, “Also, Harry is nine years younger than you. Those are the years where you figure yourself out and get sorted. You’re going to have to be patient with him as he comes into his own, especially with a baby. Baby, I worry that it is too much for you. I don’t want you to end up heartbroken and alone or have custody issues with this baby’s father. Seems so complicated,” her voice breaks off at the end and she starts to cry. Jay quickly takes her in her arms and holds her. Harry finds refuge in Louis’ arms, so seems balanced.

Harry decided it was his turn to speak up. “Mum, I know it looks confusing and trust me, part of it is and it’s frustrating, too. I wish things were different but they’re not. And we’re not. There’s some things we can’t change, but when I’m 80 and he’s 89 will it really matter that much? What we have is quite wonderful and we’re being good to one another. And I know you are worried, but have you noticed that I’m feeling better, like a lot better, and my anxiety is manageable now.  And my marks are improving. In part it is because we have a system worked out where we do an hour of focused therapy, an hour of focused studies and if we make enough progress, then a half hour of cuddling. Mum, it is so innocent, really.”

“Doesn’t seem so innocent, Harry,” she looks between them sizing them up and between the love bites and suspicious hair streaks, she shakes her head at them. “But you are happier, that’s for sure and you’re getting better grades and I have to say you’re adapting well as you can—and better than I thought you would—to being pregnant. I suppose it’s safe to say it’s a group effort on behalf of you two and your work that Harry is doing so well.” They smile at her warmly and Jay rubs her back soothingly. “I’m grateful to you both that you care for my son so much.” She turns to Harry, “And I knew you weren’t baking and cooking up a storm to go study in the library, so,” she raises an eyebrow and throws him a don’t-lie-to-me look.

He raises his hand in truce, the other one is still securely held in said boyfriend’s lap. “No more secrets. The only thing that’s going on that you don’t know about yet is Lou is up for an award, essentially his adviser wants him to submit his thesis for a fellowship, and if he wins then we are going on vacation with the baby to Mallorca for a week to relax on the beach and celebrate our graduations. We have a resort on the dream board already,” he turns and smiles at Louis who turns and puts their third-eyes together.

“You two are planning ahead, and including the baby, that’s good.”

Anne jumps in, “Louis, how do you feel about Harry having a baby that’s not yours?”

He tilts his head from side to side and takes a cleansing yogic breath. “I’ve always wanted a big family. I love babies. I love kids. Basically all of the money I’ve made teaching yoga and extra classes here and there has gone into an account that is set aside for my family. I’ve been living off of grants and scholarships for the past eight years and my boyfriend was rich, so.” He turns to Harry.  “I know I’ve never shared that with you, but you asked me why I’m so motivated, all work and no play, I recall you saying and I didn’t want to come out and say I’ve been singularly focused on blasting through graduate school, kicking arse obviously, and getting established and starting a family as soon as possible. Thought that might be a bit weird for you to know about me on day one.  But now that it’s out there, feels pretty good. I hope that’s not weird, Harry,” he leans in and buries his head in Harry’s chest.

“So, it’s alright with you?” Anne presses.

“Work in progress,” he muffles from Harry’s chest. “Some days are really hard to deal with and others are very happy. I have a lot of emotions around it.”

Harry leans back and tilts Louis’ head up, “Hey, I didn’t know that. You gotta talk to me about this.”

“I told you. He locks things up. And stews. Lord, how he stews and he gets moody and shuts down. Watching you be borderline unhappy in your last relationship for so long was very difficult to see. You have to do better this time around. You deserve to be happy, Boo. And, you might want to cover your ears, Anne, but Lou, do not fuck this up. Harry deserves every happiness in the world and you need to work extra hard to let yourself be happy. Be open. Don’t overanalyze things. Go with the flow. And do not break his heart,” Jay warns under no uncertain terms. “Also, can you kind of keep it to yourselves around the girls and Ernie. They love Harry and I want them to get used to the idea of you two together slowly.”

He looks up at Harry from his cozy spot at his heart. “I think we should probably keep the whole thing underwraps for a while. Not a secret exactly, but something special for us. Can we do that? I think it would be hard for your friends to understand that you’re in a healthy relationship with your therapist nine years your senior whilst pregnant with someone else’s baby. Maybe you could just call me your college boyfriend which is easier to understand.”

“As long as I can call you my boyfriend, I’m happy.”

“For me, only Zain knows anything about us and Oli probably saw us kissing last month but he hasn’t said anything. And Liam and Luke but they don’t know anyone really. But other than that, I’d like to keep it close and not broadcast it. My department is so gossipy and what we have is too pure. And I’m out of there in 7 to 9 months, so it will go quickly if you are ok with that. And I don’t want to jeopardize the Fellowship and that kind of thing.” They seal it with a kiss.

“Ok, how about a group hug and then we rejoin the fam?” Jay suggests and they rise up and gather in the kitchen for a big snuggle and kisses for everyone. Louis hasn’t felt so happy and free in a long time.

“Actually, can I talk to you for a moment,” Louis asks tugging on Harry’s arm, “and we’ll be in shortly.” He pulls him outside the porch adjacent to the kitchen and they sit closely on the cool bench in the thin November sun.

“Are you ok, Harry? How are you feeling about everything?” Louis checks in and taking Harry’s warm hands in his cold ones.

“I feel good. It feels good to get it off my chest and hear from you, too.”

“I also want to kiss my boyfriend,” _my husband, my soulmate._

“That’s funny, I want the same thing,” Harry tilts his head and leans in a bit, parts his lips and feels Louis’ hands in his hair bringing him closer and then they connect. There’s a little bit of heat behind it but it is mostly just very sweet and loving, moving together like the secrets of their hearts are translated best in this language, their native tongue.

“Harry, I have a few more things to confess to you. And I want you to know so you can decide whether you want to be with me, or not,” he finds himself enveloped in Harry’s arms being peppered with kisses. He chuckles a little bit and then gets serious again. “I don’t want to freak you out but I think I am, wait, I know I am in love with you. And it scares me. It’s so soon, right? Nothing makes sense. But the crazy thing is that it happened right away and I’ve been fighting it since the beginning. I’ve tried to talk myself out of it hundreds of times and, and, and but loving you is as easy as taking a breath and I just want to take more and more of them. My body loves the way it feels breathing you in. Being in love with you feels necessary for my survival. I’m not even kidding.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he drawls as he kisses into the side of Louis’ head.

“Harry, but what you don’t know is that I may be a very bad boyfriend. I am scared. I drove my last one away—”

“Me, too. I haven’t heard from Richard in two months. He’s left the country for all I know. Doesn’t return calls or texts, is never home when I stop by, doesn’t go to school.”

“You know, I’m happy about that. That’s what’s kind of fucked up about me, Harry, is that I don’t want him anywhere around you. I know you want to talk to him but when you mention him, I literally see red. I’ve never been like this and the amount of possessiveness I feel for you is unprecedented…and certainly not healthy. I don’t like myself like this. It eats at me.  Very un-zen.”

“It’s kind of hot, to be honest,” Harry confesses while stroking Louis’ thighs.

“It’s not and you know what’s worse and I hate to admit it but I am jealous that it’s his baby inside you and not mine,” and once it’s out of his mouth, it crashes like a zeppelin engulfing him in flames and he’s hysterically crying covering his eyes, insta-snot situation, it’s nothing pretty. It’s all coming out. Months of pent up emotion.  “And I have no right to feel that. It’s your baby and you can choose to have nothing to do with me,” tears flood his face, “at any time.” The dam has been broken. “You….can…take…the…baby…from…me,” he sputters out between heaves of tears and sniffles of snot. “It’s too much for me. I can’t handle it,” he rasps and seeks refuge in his elbows that have nested on his bent knees. He cries and cries and mumbles little phrases out like “I can’t take it.” “I wanna love the baby, too.” “I have no right.” “M’so fucked up.”

Harry sees Gemma’s head pop out the door and he quickly waves her away.

“There, there,” he soothes rubbing Louis’ back and placing gentle kisses to his head as he shushes his boyfriend.

Louis lifts up his face revealing red swollen eyes, blotchy skin and sheer pain imprinted into his countenance. “M’ fucked up, Harry. I told you.”

“We’ll work it out, ok. I’m glad you told me. I think I’d feel the same if the tables were turned, for what it’s worth. And it makes me really happy that it sounds like you want to be a little family with me and the baby.” He squeezes him extra tight.

“More than anything,” he says quietly. “But what if I fuck up and you leave and you take the baby and I don’t see you two ever again?” The tears flow once again and he’s heaving against his knees, “I’d die, Harry. I would.”

“Well, I don’t have any intention of doing that seeing as how I am falling in love with you, too, and can’t see that changing anytime soon,” his declaration only makes the other man cry louder. “And if you want, I would willing to get some counseling so we can have the tools, as you’d say, to work this out the best way we can.”

“You’d want to do that? With me? Because I have all these issues? You wanna work on it knowing I’m a fucking mess?”

“Yes, yes and I lost track of your questions but the answer is yes, Lou, let’s work on it. You’re worth it to me. I want you to be happy. I want this baby to have two happy pa-pa-people loving him. Do you know of someone who would be good for this?”

“Harry, I feel like you are giving me a gift I don’t deserve but I am really happy that you want to give me a chance,” he lets out a long exhale. "The only person I trust in the department is Zain and his focus is on children, so maybe he would make an exception for us. And he likes you already, so I bet he would be willing to help us.”

“Can you talk to him about it tomorrow? Let’s get going on this. I’m going to go in a get us a cuppa and I need to pee, but is there anything else you want to talk about?”

“I’ve never been in love before. Thought I was but turns out that this is all new to me.”

“Me, too, Lou.” He plants a kiss on his head and comes back out a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea.

“You’re amazing you know that?” he sticks his nose in the steam and it fogs up his glasses causing Harry to bark out a laugh.

“Love will make you do the strangest things,” Harry laughs and pulls Louis into a sidearm snuggle.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Richard's dad is an asshole. Some shit goes down in this chapter. Enjoy (if you like :-( :-( angsty stuff).
> 
> Unrelated but I played Zayn's Mind of Mine in the office today and my patients loved it. I got the clean version because my kids also listen to it. You should see my 3 y/o sing pillowtalk. Too cute!
> 
> Back to the story, but prepare yourself..........................

Counseling with Zain has been going amazing. Truly amazing. They’ve made a lot of progress on how they relate to each other and talk honestly about their fears, hopes and anxieties. They also spend time discussing their dreams and ways to manifest them. Since it’s all off the record and they’re paying Zain in homemade food and real conversation, everyone is happy.

They’ve been using chakra tuning forks that Louis bought *immediately* after the retreat and guided gazing during their sessions and even couples hypnosis. They’ve been journaling and making dream boards and stating their intentions aloud clearly. And love making has been out of this world. They have yet to switch it up, but they’re working out the kinks quite literally since Harry’s sex drive is insatiable.

They also got all their STD testing done, so they can fuck to their heart’s delight bare back which makes both of them really happy. Harry wasn’t exaggerating that he wanted to bring Louis to at least three orgasms on the weekend days. They spend time in Louis’ luxurious bed reading, studying, fucking, sexy time in the bathtub, pawing each other and cuddling and lots of coming. It is fucking awesome!

Everything was going fantastically until Harry caught a cold and then gave it to Louis and no one has been sleeping due to coughing, sneezing and hacking. They both keep waking each other up and it is hard not to be resentful over time when you just need your fuckin sleep to feel half human, damn! 

Harry is uncomfortable as his belly is getting bigger and he has to pee ten times a night and rolls around constantly. Louis runs cold so he’s always sneaking over trying to steal heat from Harry who doesn’t want to be touched some nights so Louis huffs on his side of the bed and tries not to be the needy-prisscase that he truly is when he feels cuddle deprived. Louis tries to hold Harry’s belly and feel the kicks but sometimes Harry swats him away claiming he feels hypersensitive and just doesn't want to be touched. No one wants to come out and say it but Harry's very emotional and very hormonal. Louis does his best to cater to his boyfriend's wild mood swings but sometimes he feels like he is being locked out from Harry's true feelings.

He makes a concerted effort to connect with the baby and kisses the baby belly and rubs the baby whenever Harry allows. He makes sure that Harry eats well and gets enough organic food and walks when the weather cooperates. He still reads to the baby at night in person at his flat or on the phone when Harry is home, he’ll put the phone to his belly and pass out. Louis usually hears Harry's gentle snores before the story is finished. He keeps reading anyway and telling the baby about his day and the things he wants to do with him when he arrives and some of the cute clothes that he has for him. And how much he loves him already. And how beautiful his father is and that when the baby is ready, he will be born to two people that love him very much. He feels like the baby understands and is comforted by that. 

Louis feels a deep connection forging with Harry's baby and it is something he has longed for his whole life. This sweet, pure connection with the divine and seeing his lover's body change as the vessel for this divine being. It is everything to him and it makes him so happy. The happiness is one aspect he enjoys but there's a side he's suppressing and investigating on his own and is frankly too embarrassed to admit these deep feelings to anyone. He is terrified about Harry taking the baby away from him and it breaks his heart in ways he's never experienced or imagined. He's well-aware that he is not the baby's father or even legal guardian or adopted dad and it absolutely kills him.

He's noticed that Harry doesn't totally include him in his future plans and it is breaking his heart. He doesn't know where he fits into the mix and he just wants to know and have it known to the world that he is a big part of their little family. He feels like a lot is implied but nothing is concrete and it is making his skin electric with uncertainty. In his crystal ball, he sees them as a happy family. Lots  of love, lots of kids and harmony. He knows that to be true but they haven't taken the steps to make anything super official and he would like to have those details sorted already so they can move on together as a family and not be splintered.  

It’s the holiday time and schools are closed. It’s been raining non-stop, it’s cold and they are both just fucking irritable. Christmas time is usually Louis’ favourite time of year with family and his birthday and all, but the extra four month’s rent Berndt left are used this month. Louis has always been a bit of a penny pincher so he’s been looking at moving to something smaller and with fewer memories.

Harry’s been really uncomfortable attending school and being gawked at with his growing belly. He is undeniably pregnant and his hips and face are also showing signs of weight gain, too. Liam has been helping with his back and he attends yoga class when he can, but he just feels so not like himself. His whole life is changing in ways that are too fast for him to adapt to and some parts that seem to drag on. Some aspects of his experience he keeps to himself which are equal parts anxiety about the future and anxiety about the birth process. He feels like he can't talk to anyone about it. No one knows someone who has gone through what he is going through. Everyone has questions that are too fucking nosy.

He's tired of feeling out of control of everything in his life.

He's a bundle of nerves and it is hard for him to suppress his fears and be present for Louis in the way he would like--and the way he thinks Louis needs.

Harry has been charmed by Louis' affection and interest in the baby but there is something about the situation that Harry doesn't fully trust--like Louis is only half-invested. He senses that Louis is pulling away from him the further along he gets in his pregnancy.  He invites Louis to his monthly midwifery appointments but he finds some reason not to go and the excuses are grating on Harry's nerves. He needs to know who his team is and who he can count on to support him through this huge change.  Bringing up his concerns is at the forefront of his mind but he is too scared to speak them in fear that Louis will think he is needy or nuts, too fat, or undesirable in some way and decide that Harry is not worth the trouble. 

He just cant sink into allowance of all the unknowns in this situation. Too many things out of his control. He had plans to go to Uni and become a lawyer or a physiotherapist and now his life is drastically altered and he's spinning. He just wants stability. If he is going to end up alone, he wants to mentally prepare for that. If he and Louis are going to make a go of it, he wants to start moving down that track quickly. He's been at this fork in the road for 3 months or so and even though their relationship is still relatively new, he just wants to get on with it already. To hell with tradition and waiting and societal influences. He's ready to commit. He's just not sure about Louis.

Getting ready for the birth has been its own ordeal. He watches some home birth videos on youtube and he cries every time. They are so beautiful. Most of them are waterbirths and he imagines himself in the tub being supported by Louis and sharing that precious time with the man he loves. He sees it in his mind's eye. He trusts Jay and the birth process but it terrifies him at the same time. He can't imagine giving birth to a full-grown baby from his rectum. Just unfathomable. He can't imagine how it all works and there's not much information on it, so he feels in the dark about the practical steps in the process. He's reached out to the couple that Jay recommended and they've assuaged his fears that it will all be ok, but every day it is becoming very very real that he will be a father. He's particularly aware of the fact that he will give birth to his baby as an unmarried teenager. 

Harry is a swirl of emotions and questions. It has also been stressing him out that he is not able to reach Richard and it sets Louis’ emotions off and they get into a fight about it. When Richard's name comes up, Louis shuts down and gets pissed. He just loses his chill and is unable to be mature and understanding about it---the possessiveness he feels for Harry and his intense jealousy about the situation is too much for him particularly when very real Richard is brought up. He is unable to be the understanding, calm partner Harry needs around this particular issue. It's the confluence of all of Louis' fears and he's human and got his issues, too.

This particular argument was intense and they are in a bit of a rough patch with everything going on.

Harry asks for a break.

Per usual, Louis feels absolutely rejected and stews about it.   He spends his days with his phone turned off most of the day, crying into his pillow. He feels devastated like everything is out of his hands. He ignores Harry’s texts inquiring about him and little loving messages.

He did get Zain’s text warning him to stay away from campus and he had no plans of going anyway so, he put it out of his mind.

His mum texts him constantly about babysitting but he can’t be arsed.  Harry broke up with him and he is in the dumps big time. He can’t even bring himself to tell anyone, so cries about it all by his lonesome.

On the day of his birthday, December 24th, Zain stops by and finds Louis not only drunk but totally high on a brownie Berndt left in the freezer from his major anxiety days. He’s slurring and is borderline incoherent. There are crisps and biscuits littered on the table and on the floor. There’s a bottle of liquor on the table, too.  

Zain sends a quick text and turns his attention back to his friend who is nursing a Jack and coke, watching Lassie reruns on Hulu slumped on the side of the couch. “Ok, Lou. I need to get you presentable. Remember I texted you saying I was taking you out. It’s your birthday, Lou. Come on, can you stand up?”

“Nope,” he slurred and slugged down the last half of his drink in two big sloppy swallows dribbling some on his shirt.

“Fuck, Lou, you are mess. You’re so messy. The fuck is wrong with you?” Zain pokes into his chest trying to provoke him into honest conversation. Louis swats his fingers off or tries to at least but isn’t coordinated enough to be effective.

“M’not talkin bout it.”

“Alright, be a tit. I’m going to get some fresh clothes for you and get you cleaned up.”

He stops in the hallway and lets his friend have it. “I’m actually kind of pissed at you right now.  I’m not going to lie. You’re lucky I’m not in my heels today or I’d chuck one at you. I wasn’t expecting to come here and baby you.”

“Don’t say 'baby',” he wails and collapses in the sofa.

Zain returns a few minutes later with a set of clothing and some washing flannels.

“Here let’s take off these gross clothes. Hands up, lean forward. Jesus, Lou, you stink. Here’s a washcloth with soap and here’s one with just water, please scrub yourself. I can’t take you anywhere looking or smelling like this.” He holds Louis forward while he lazily wipes himself off with one then the other. “Get under your pits for fucks sake. Hold on.”

He returns with some spray deodorant and lifts Louis’ underarms and sprays all over him. “Here put this shirt on. Fuck, Lou, you gotta help.” His plea was met with groans. “Now stand up and let’s peel these filthy joggers off of you. But you gotta clean yourself. I personally want to pretend I am anywhere else right now.”

Louis hobbles unsteadily from foot to foot trying to get his underclothes off. Zain takes the deodorant spray and shoots some right at his dick and between his legs. “You’d thank me, trust,” he says haughtily.  With some effort and patience, he was able to get Louis dressed and slipped a pair of Vans on his feet. He drags a comb through his hair but gives up because it is hopeless, so he finds a snapback on the desk and puts it on his head. “Alright, where’s your cologne?”

“Nope. No. Harry doesn’t like scents. Can’t trust em,” he’s about to start crying again and stifles it.

“What makes you think you are going to see Harry?” Zain couldn’t help himself, it was wide open and something was clearly under his best friend’s skin and he also wanted to know if someone tipped him off about the surprise party.

“M’ not gonna to see him, cuz he doesn’t gonna want to see me. Broke up with me. M'a loser."

Zain’s nearly out of patience with him. “You are overreacting or something. He did not break up with you. What did he say?”

“Wanted space. Haven’t heard from him in rlllllly long time,” which is a lie because they just got in a fight three days ago and Harry’s been calling and texting him on the regular.

Zain laughs and holds Louis by the shoulders shaking him to get some sense in his thick skull. “He didn’t break up with you. You are reading into this. He asked for space. This could be anything. A day, a few hours, a week. People are entitled to space even in the most committed situations. You know that.  I bet he’s been texting you and you’ve been ignoring him like the fucking little prat that you are.”

“Maybe.”

“And have you stopped to consider the enormous amount of stress he is under? He’s been sick. He’s uncomfortable in his body. He’s a fucking spectacle with that belly. People at school stare and tease him. He’s unmarried. He probably has to wait a few years to go to college and he’s going to have a child to take care of for the next eighteen years and he’s fucking seventeen years old. You need to put yourself in his shoes and quit being such a bitch about this stuff. I swear, you drive me crazy with your bullshit sometimes. You should seriously censor yourself and think ‘Is this something that a selfish arsehole would say? Or think?’ and if the answer is yes, then you need to stop and grow the fuck up.”

Louis looks down and shrugs. He is super pathetic.

“Lou, we need to work on this. Berndt pulled away from you all the time but you didn’t care because you didn’t love him like this. You are scared. That’s the heart of it. You know there are no guarantees between two people. People can leave you. People can stay. People can use their words like fucking preschoolers and talk about their feelings. You know better, Lou.”

He sends another quick text and shuffles Louis to his car.

 ............

“Harry, you are a literal godsend," she says as she kisses both of his cheeks and pulls him into a big mama Jay hug.  "Liam's coming at five. Zain is picking the birthday boy up. I will be back in an hour or two. I can take some of the kids with me if that’s easier.”

“No, it’s ok. We’ll manage,” he waves her off.  “I’ll put them to work in the kitchen.  The menu seems simple enough anyway. I think he will really like it.”

“I hope so. I haven’t heard from him in a week or so and sometimes he gets stroppy around his birthday.  He’s so moody, I honestly don’t know how you deal with it.”

“It’s a challenge sometimes, but I’m moody too, so we are a pair.” With a quick peck to the cheek, she was gone and Harry was alone with a houseful of boisterous children.

He prepped all the salad and meats while the twins were napping and saved the less sensitive foods for the kids to help him with later.

He sets the butter out to soften on the countertop and measures the ingredients and sets them aside. The kids wanted to make cookies for Louis and decorate them but they’re still napping so he puts his feet up on the ottoman, tunes out the chaos and rests his eyes.

 ..........

“I really don’t want to do this. I feel fiiii—“ she groans gripping her midsection. She turns to her partner and offers as seriously stubborn of a look as she can muster between the painful cycles she’s experiencing.

“Quatch. I know a midwife here and we can stop by her house and see if she can at least check you. I know you don’t want to but I’m worried about the baby.” She fixes him with a bit of a 'fuck you' look. Then he added, “and you, of course.”

“Let’s just go to the hospital.” She turns to look out the window of the car.

“No, we don’t have insurance here and your doctor…why are you being such a dickkopf about this?”

She changes the subject. “Did you have fun at the shower? Your colleagues were so generous. And their faces, too? Surpriiiiiiiiiiiise…” she pants and moans. “…..Oh godddddd, it hurts so much! We got lots of presents for our baaaaaabyyyy. Yowwwwwwwwwww, god it hurts so much, fuuuuuuhhhck, I can’t take it…..” She wipes her forehead which is now dripping sweat into her face. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and releases a pent up yell.

“We are almost there, so just take some breaths,” he reaches over the console and holds her hand. She grips him tightly with every painful contraction. He instructs her to pant out of her mouth and he pants along with her as they make their way through the neighborhood.

“Ok, we are here. I don’t see her car, but there are some ones here that I don’t recognize.” He scans for one in particular and decides the coast is clear when he doesn’t see it. “Ok, I’m going to jump out and if she is here, then I’ll come get you. Just try to relax. I know this must be scary.”

“How do you know her? Her car? Where she lives?” she moans out, sweat dripping from her face.  Her eyes edge on this side of unbearable torture.

“I’ll tell you later,” he assures and leans toward the driver’s side door elbowing it open.  

She grips his arms squeezing it tightly and yanks him back down and he gives it up. “It’s Louis’ mum. We were always on good terms. She’s really nice. Please don’t fight me on this.”

She’s screaming bloody murder as he breaks free from her grasp and runs to the front door.

Harry is startled by the urgent sounding knock and jumps up panicked.

He answers the door in his apron and before he could say anything, the man spoke with urgency.

“Is Jay home? I need to speak with her,” the man spoke sharply eyeing Harry up and down.

“She’s not but she will be soon,” he scrubs his face to make him wake up out of his haze. “Do you want to wait for her or I can have her contact you?”

“We can’t wait,” he turns to book it toward the street.

Harry runs after him as quickly as he can with his own belly bouncing and yelling for  him to wait. He reaches the car and peers inside and sees a woman in distress. “Oh my, is she in labour? I can call an ambulance if you want?” He rounds the driver’s side and reaches the man as he’s about to get in the car. “Or do you want to deliver here? I’m sure she has everything.”

“No, it’s ok.”

“Can I tell her your name at least?” he asks exasperatedly. “Sorry, I’m Harry, the Deakin’s babysitter. I’m expecting myself so I can imagine that you must be worried about your wife,” he offers his hand to the man who takes it with a grimace. He looks into the car and gives the woman a sign that it’ll be a second.

“You’re pretty young….”

“M’ seventeen. I know. 3 months to go.”

“I’m Mr. Schmi—“ and both men turn toward the loud voice booming behind them.

“Boyyyyyfriennnnnd,” a very drunken Louis called hanging out the passenger window.

“Oh, god, this is awkward. I need to go.”

Harry stops him by holding his shoulder, “That’s just Mrs. Deakin’s son.”

“Oh, I know him,” but before he could get too far Louis came around and got up in the man’s face. He pushed him up against the car and started yelling at him and wildly gesturing his hands. It was mostly incoherent cursing and accusations but Harry was piecing things together and was becoming increasingly heated himself at the exchange between the two men.

 The man gave Louis a full shove to the shoulders and yelled back at him with venom. Louis’ temper went from zero to one hundred real quick. Harry, got between the two men and pushed Louis off of him, pointing to the woman in the passenger seat who was obviously in distress, crying and writhing in the seat.

“Honey, his wife is about to have a baby, let him go. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yells pointing directly  to the woman.  By this time, Liam had arrived and Zain had joined them and latched onto Harry’s arms pulling him off of Louis.

“Harry, this is my shitty ex and what the fuck did you say???” he screamed as he smashes his face rather uncoordinately into the car window getting a closer view. “Berndt, what the fuck is going on?!” he screams looking at her and then pounds his fists on his ex’s chest.

Her screams of agony could be heard through the closed windows and she was looking very desperate.

Berndt takes a fist full of Harry’s shirt and pulls him forward knocking him off-balance, points to Harry and said, “You’re fucking a teenager so don’t fucking talk to me! How long has this been going on? You were cheating on me, too, you piece of shit!” He releases Harry and pushes Louis to the ground and jumps in his car and speeds off.

Harry turns and starts walking toward the house leaving Louis in the street before he had a change of heart but Zain and Liam had already helped him to the kerb. Louis was cursing and crying so intensely that it physically pained Harry to see him like this. He felt out of his depth and turned to go back in the house.

When he walked in he was taken aback to see the entire Tomlinson-Deakin clan perched in the windows watching the whole thing go down and stared at Harry confused. The older twins were crying and the littlest ones were yelling and hitting each other.

He scoops the children up two by two and brings them to the couch to cuddle and decompress. He needs to decompress, too. He’s never seen Louis like that and certainly never physically violent and it made him feel numb. And scared. When the kids were calm, he gave them a goodbye kiss, handed out their holiday presents and left without a word to Louis.

He drove to a quiet, unpopulated spot and parked his car. He sent Mrs. Deakin a cordial text saying that Louis and Zain arrived and that he needed to leave and sorry he couldn’t stay.

His phone had four texts from Zain asking about his whereabouts. Instead of responding, he sent one to Louis saying don’t contact me until you get your shit together. Something about being a drunk, anger management and to learn how to communicate like an adult. He figured Louis’ birthday was already ruined might as well let him have it and vent all his frustrations.

His belly prevented him from bending all the way forward to cry on the steering wheel like he’d like but he leaned to the side and did his best to rest and comfort himself. He cried to himself for what seemed like an hour but likely it was half than that because his bladder was pounding. He jumped out and pissed in a bush, figuring he was protected under the cloak of twilight. Even if he wasn’t, he didn’t have any extra shits to give.

Riding the wave of emotional decisions, he decides to drive to Richard’s house to see if he is home for the holidays. When he arrived at his house, the lights were on and he could see shadows of people moving inside behind the curtain. He sat in the car watching the players acting out on their private stage. He’s had enough drama for the day but indulges a bit more, just to torture himself with how it will all play out.

He's left letters in the post box with pictures from the sonogram and every correspondence goes unanswered. He needs some closure.

He can’t quite pick anyone out, but decides to knock on the door in case Richard is there.

Feeling courage build up in his gut, he makes his way to the door, knocks and waits. As he waits, he becomes increasingly anxious. He knocks again a bit louder and waits. Then he rings the doorbell. The porch light flicked on and an older angry man appeared in the doorway. He doesn’t wait to talk to Harry. He just looks at his protruding belly and slams the door.

He stays and puts his ear to the door and hears noises but can’t pick anything or anyone definitively out. Feeling his legs give out and his heart break, he eases himself down to the front porch and cries. A few minutes later the porch light goes out and he cries some more. He feels so alone and rejected by everyone.

“Pssssst, get your faggot arse off my porch,” a man hissed at him through a crack in the door. “Never come back here again.”

“M’not leaving until I talk to Richard who is the father of this baby,” Harry growled back as fiercely as his polite upbringing would allow.

The door closed and time stood still as he sat there shivering. Another round of tears came and his body shook with profound pain. Everything hurt, inside and out.

He heard a cocking noise and turns to see Richard’s father standing over him holding a gun at his side. “Perhaps you didn’t understand. Get your faggot arse away from my house. Don’t talk about my son!” his eyes became steely rage as he leveled the pistol at Harry’s torso.  

He shrieked and jumped down the porch and landed poorly on some rocks and hobbled as fast as he could to his car and got the fuck out of there. He continued screaming all the way home until he pushed through the door and jumped into the safety of his mother’s arms and bawled.

..........

Christmas was subdued in the Styles household. He was mostly laid up because of sprained ankle. They watched movies, drank cocoa and his mother held Harry as he shook through the flashbacks of yesterday’s horror show. His mind drifted from the gun to seeing the woman suffering in the car while his drunk boyfriend fought with her husband. As he reviewed it over and over the details changed and he wasn’t sure he was remembering it at all clearly. He knew he was terrified, heartbroken, pregnant and alone.  A true nightmare for him.

 .........

Christmas sucked at the Tomlinson-Deakin household. They watched movies, drank tea and held Louis as he cried as he relived the emotional turmoil that his 27th birthday became. Lottie was in charge of his phone and she returned Zain’s and Liam’s texts when they came in. Louis was devastated. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Berndt was expecting a baby with his student—and it was the one with that fucking dog—and that Harry dumped him for not being good enough. He laid on the couch in yesterday’s clothes and cried in his sleep.

.........

On the 28th Louis got in the shower and scrubbed the film off of his body and his teeth. Scales of fear and familiar filth washing away. He borrowed some of his mum’s husband’s clothes and headed over to Harry’s house. He left his phone at his family’s house so he would have no distractions. He had a single focus to talk to Harry. He snapped up a few flowers from the holiday bouquet on his way out.

The family cars were out front and Louis decided to go for it. He knocked and Gemma answered. She glowered at him and didn’t wait to hear what Louis said before she interrupted him and told him to fuck off and that her brother deserves better. Tears pricked in his eyes and a heaviness smothered his soul like molten lead.

He waited and knocked again. This time Anne answered with a furrowed brow and a strongly disapproving look and before she could speak, he held up his hands and thrust the blooms into hers. “Please, I know Harry is upset with me. I’d really like to speak with him.” She shook her head ‘no’ and he pleaded again, “Please Anne, I need to talk to him.” She shakes her head again and crosses her arms in a defensive posture. “Please Anne. He is everything to me. I love him. I just need to talk with him.”

She opens the door fully, steps through and closes it quietly behind her. “Louis, I know you mean well. He is very distraught. Some things happened and he needs some space to sort through them. The last few days have been terrible for him,” her face grimaces and she starts to cry. He immediately reaches out to her to bring her into an embrace but she pulls herself away from him. Her body shakes with tears.

He pleads quietly, “Please Anne, let me help. I only want to talk with him. Help him.” She shakes her head and wipes her tears with her sleeve.

“Things happened at Richard’s house. He’ll have to tell you. He needs space. Space to think. Decisions.”

“What happened?” jealousy forked his tongue and everything became ultrasensitive.

“It’s not my place to discuss it. I’m sorry, Louis.” She turned and opened the door, steps inside and quietly whispers, “I was rooting for you.”

With that pronouncement, he crumbled and stumbled away. He’s realizing that he’s lost it all and is unable to process anything. He blanks out and somehow manages the key in the ignition, slips the car into gear and glides mindlessly down the street a few blocks.

He sees a spot on the side of the road and parks his car somewhat diagonally and kills the motor. He sits there in silence. His brain jumps around and his imagination is in overdrive constructing losing arguments to every proposition.

A figure catches his eye in his side mirror and it looks kind of weird-shaped and he squints his eyes to figure it out. After a few moments he realizes it is two people walking together, hunched into each other.  His heart constricts with pain realizing he can’t have that closeness with Harry anymore. He hangs his head in his hands, tears pouring through his fingers and his body is trembling. He watches the figure blob pass and he jumps out of the car loudly calling, “Harry?”

Harry looks up and he barely recognizes him through his swollen eyes and face, his hair smashed under an ugly beanie. He looks terrible. He looks like hell. The man walking with Harry holds him closer as he spins him around and they head back the other direction. He sees Harry attempting to turn around but he is being held tightly and prevented from doing so. It could even be Richard for all he knows. Louis kind of wants to kick his arse and reclaim his boyfriend.  

Louis reminds himself that Harry has asked for space, Anne mentioned he was very traumatized and that Harry also explicitly told him not to contact him until he has his shit together. Against all better judgment, he yells out, “Harry, I love you! I’m so sorry! Let’s work it out! Please! I love you so much, this is killing meeeee.” He stands on the sidewalk watching his love and the other man disappear in the distance.

He feels dead.

But he’s still alive so he needs to figure out how to live at rock bottom.

He drives home and the beginnings of an action plan start to form in his mind. Pieces slotting in and he’s seeing the edges of something cohesive. He runs in the house, snatches up his phone and gifts and heads back to his flat.

When he arrives, he clears off his desk and brings out several pieces of paper. This is his opportunity to get his life together. He writes columns for issue, action and outcome. He gets to work taking a hard look at the things in his life that aren’t working for him right now.

He finds an online anger management class and enrolls. He throws out his booze. He scours his flat for every piece of something that he is hanging on to in hopes that Berndt will come back to him. He throws that shit away. Anything that has meaning because it has memories of Berndt goes in the rubbish bin. He dumps a lot of his wardrobe and most of his knickknacks.

As he’s holding each piece of history and choosing, he feels freer. He feels so empowered that he looks through his space looking for things that he uses to escape from or dwell in his depression and he threw that stuff away, too.

He searches craigslist for a large one bedroom flat with a tub of course. He finds one that is 300 pounds cheaper and has a little garden perfect for reading and meditating during better weather. He contacts the landlord and sets up a meeting, checks it out and signs a 6 month lease. It is move-in ready so he gives notice and his current landlord is cool about it since he’s been so reliable for the past 5 years, there’s no penalty.

Riding the high, he calls Harry and it goes to voicemail. He leaves him a very sincere message listing all of the things he’s doing to make things right in his life and that he misses him very much so a lot.  He takes a picture of his to-do list and sends it to Harry hoping he will see that Louis is taking his words to heart and to task.

He goes out and buys some moving boxes and tape and starts packing and labeling. It takes the better part of the next two days but come December 31st, he’s hired student movers to schlep his stuff and he’s in his new place.

It’s perfect! It’s an in-law unit in the back of the main house. It has its own laundry facilities, big open windows and a gorgeous garden which he has full access to. There’s even a friendly cat that’s come by to check him out and hasn’t run off immediately.  He sends Harry a picture text of his new digs with a smiley face and the words, ‘I’ll make this feel like home’.

It's New Years Eve and he has yet to receive any reply from Harry and the deep burn of being ignored on starts to really sink in and he hates the way it feels. He feels a bolt of lightning strike his system when he realizes that he’s made the last week (or more) all about himself. He sends Harry a sincere apology through the psychic ethers and sends a text asking about how he is doing and how the baby is. Still no response, even hours later, but he feels like he is slowly righting some wrongs.

In the end, it is Harry’s choice, too, and the fact that Harry can always leave him erodes his mental well-being but when the anxiety and depression around it rises up and threatens to drown him, he wraps the whole situation up in love and sends gratitude to Harry and the baby for the lessons. He sends a tiny bit to Richard and a smidge to Berndt and his wife. His wife? His wife and their baby?? He still can’t process it but it’s not for him to figure out. He has to let it go.

He calls his mum to check in. Got to get better on that front, too. This acting- like- an-adult checklist requires he change a lot of his behaviours and he starts by asking how she is doing and what her plans are. Turns out she is celebrating with Anne and that the two of them are becoming very close. She doesn’t need to remind him that they had plans to spend Christmas evening together playing games and drinking cider, until their sons dropped A-bombs on their relationship, effectively fucking everything up. She said she has no expectant mothers on the verge of labour so she is going to share a nice bottle of champagne she been saving since their wedding with Anne and relax.

His phone keeps pinging with texts and invitations to parties. Seems like some sort of floodgate has opened and the universe is providing him with many opportunities to receive.

He only wants to kiss Harry tonight and rub his belly but it’s not in the cards yet apparently so he chooses the last place Harry would be—a 21 and over nightclub. Should be full of college students and even if he’s not in the mood to pull, it will be fun to move his body and appreciate some eye-candy even if they’re mostly straight guys. Luke and Liam will show him a good time.

Zain may or may not join them. He senses Zain might need some space from him and he sends a psychic care package of love to him and wishes him a very happy new year.

He puts on Harry’s blue jumper that he’s kept this whole time, unwashed. It mainly lives under his pillow and he cuddles with it when he’s lonely or missing Harry on nights he has to go home. Harry refreshes it with his scent when they’re in bed together and rubs it all over his body to make sure it is just as Louis loves it. At the moment, it smells just like him and Louis sticks his face all over it smoothing his skin with his former lover’s essence. He pairs it with black jeans. They’re tight AF and shows off his buns. Although he is sexy as hell with his glasses, he takes them off and opts for some contacts so he doesn’t have to worry about drunkies whacking his glasses off like last time. He finishes off his look with kohl eyeliner, some butch Chelsea boots and a queer-ass quiff and hustles to the club.

He feels like he’s in that Frozen movie because his mantra is Let it go. Let it go…. And the more he says it, the more free he feels. There’s nothing on the line tonight anyway, just some dancing and distraction from his heartache.

The club is packed but he is able to find his friends fairly quickly due to the power of the text message and his keen powers of perception. To his surprise, Zain is there, too, looking hot AF in a leather mini skirt, pussy bow blouse and pumps. She's partying with Liam, Luke and other buds. He's noticed that Zain fits in well and meshes seamlessly with the group. He pats himself on the back for joining his two favourite friends. Feeling more at ease but not really social, he excuses himself to wanders around and practice invisibility. 

As the night wears on, he diligently sips his cranberry juice and keeps his feet moving on the dance floor. He’s found a fun group to boogie with and everything is easy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees some young people with a bunch of what looks like baby stuff attached to them. He shivers involuntarily and his skin crawls. He feels a general unease in his body. He sees what might be a rattle on the bra, a bib around the neck, a dummy that lights up, and stuff like that. They are dressed in adult onesies, too, and Louis can’t help but be entertained and think of what Harry would think of this. There’s quite a group of them and they’re dragging what must be the woman of honour into the dance circle and everyone starts grinding around and shaking it.

His attention shifts elsewhere out of self-preservation. Just thinking about Harry and his baby makes his throat constrict so much he could keel over and die on the spot. He trains his eye on a good looking blonde man in a green boa, a leprechaun hat and green booty shorts. _He could be gay for sure_ , Louis chuckles to himself.  He looks so happy and dancing his jigs; his energy is infectious. He follows the little leprechaun as he mixes in with the baby group and then he looks away. It becomes too much again. He feels a lot of emotions well up in his body and dancing is the only thing that keeps them from sticking to him, strangling him from the inside.

He strikes up a conversation with a very good looking guy and some of his friends. They’re traveling from Australia and they’re musicians trying to gig and land a contract. He tries to maintain a conversation but the din of the club makes it difficult. He was distracted again by some commotion coming from that eccentric baby group. Looks like they’re trying to form a conga line and the leprechaun is out front trying his best to make it happen. Louis leans back into the group as the line passes and he sees the caboose as a very grumpy looking Harry dressed up in some baby shower gear hobbling. The Mum-to-be sash was altered to say Pop-to- be and his tiara is sitting lopsided in his curls.

So much is wrong with that scene. Harry is miserable and he scoffs that someone mislabeled him as Pop. Louis is Papa and Harry is Daddy. Fucking amateurs.

Louis folds in deeply to the group and he closes his eyes and looks down hoping he was not spotted. He would not want to ruin Harry’s New Year’s Eve Baby Shower with his presence. It hurts his heart to acknowledge that to himself--that his existence could cause Harry pain. He looks up when he’s certain they’ve passed and his eyes dart right to Harry. He’s walking funny and looks uncomfortable. Poor guy.

Louis quickly bids this good looking group adieu and weaves in and out of people as incognito as he could, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He just needs some air before his circuits fry. His hands are shaking around his juice he feels like he might shed some skin or something equally transformative as a result of coping with tonight’s stressors. The more to himself he gets, the more he realizes he feels totally mentally unstable and needs to get outside and away from people. Too much energy. Too much muchness.  

Outside feels good. His lungs expand from their constricted state and he gives his body a little stretch and uncoils it from the anxiety hooked into his being. Some people are smoking it up and others are chatting or making out. He locates a serene spot and peeks out over the deck breathing in cold December air as deeply and nonchalant as he can. Having an anxiety attack on New Year’s Eve would be very uncool and he doesn’t want any more attention. He can barely keep it together as it is.

He gets into a good rhythm with his breath and plans his escape in a moment of clarity. He certainly doesn’t want to wait around to see Harry kiss someone else at midnight--which he is certain would happen--and can’t stand that he’s there and he can’t touch or even acknowledge him.

Life is kind of fucking him without lube right now.

He puts all the parts together and he’s about to head out when someone taps his shoulder. It’s the leprechaun of course. Whatever you put your attention on manifests. Louis does actually know better but likes the universe to beat some lessons into his head over and over and over.

“Hey mate, Happy New Year!” the leprechaun says joyfully and toasts Louis with his Guinness.

“Happy New Year, man,” Louis responds not quite able to match the leprechaun’s enthusiasm. He is joined up by a good looking-ish long haired eccentric guy who introduced himself as Julian. They give each other a kiss and continue chatting up Louis who responds mostly with nods and gentle half-smiles. They are trying to figure out why Louis looks so familiar to them and he is trying to hide any connection to Harry. He wants to afford Harry that privacy in case he wants to cut Louis completely out of his life and these two friendly guys don’t need to know how he is really doing--fucking dyin' here!-- and that there might be a hundred photos of him and the Pop-to-be on his phone—that they’ve made love dozens of time and that Harry is his soulmate.

Julian puts his finger in the air and shouts “I know it now! You look like Niall’s midwife.” He and Niall study Louis’ face and agree. The jig is up and that’s the connection.

He can either risk everything or play dumb.

He chooses semi-honesty and says that his mum is a midwife and then the connections between them start to forge. He answers a minimum number of questions and feels like he is burning half dead  on a pyre of embodied lies and vanquished hope. He feels it starting to get intense and tries to excuse himself by making a mealy-mouthed utterance, waving and walking toward the club.

Niall grabs him by the arm and asks if he knew Harry and with that, he started to cry and overflow with emotion. He yanks his arm free and goes forward without a backwards look at the pair who are no doubt beginning to question a lot of their interaction with him.

He quickly scans the crowd for the baby shower cloud and is unable to find them. He keeps his head down and moves through people like a hot knife through butter. He decides that he can find his friends easier if he goes up to the balcony and looks for them from that vantage point.  He ascends the stairs two at a time and winds his way to a free spot on the ledge and looks as quickly and furtively as he can. It’s about 15 minutes to midnight and people seem to be looking for their friends and loved ones. There’s a heightened intensity in the air and he’s picking up hopes, anxieties, fears, rejections, inebriation from all of those around him. He has an intense need to protect himself and he backs himself into a corner. He’s decides he’s going to wait along the wall in the darkest place he can find and find his friends after the midnight celebration. He finds a relatively empty spot and he takes some deep breaths, grateful for the wall’s stability. If he relied on his own strength, he might become a puddle on the spot.

He takes out his phone and busies himself with anything other than engaging in the energy of the club and he is doing is best to push Harry out of his mind, but of course with every thought cycle comes another memory or thought or feeling or emotion about Harry. He’s unable to disconnect from him so he observes that connection and sends love to it. If he had his way, they would be in the honeymoon suite making babies right now. Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry. He pockets his phone and closes his eyes and leans his head back, puts his hands in yogic prayer pose, Harry Harry Harry Harry…..the pounding rhythmic noise of the EDM provides the perfect backdrop to the heart-wrenching replay cycling through his psyche. He lets himself be transported by the beats, lets them stimulate his own fibrillating heart. He focuses on his breath and pushes everything else out on the periphery of his awareness.

He hears that the countdown has begun. 10 seconds to midnight.  Everything’s buzzing and he’s shutting down.

“Hey Lou,” he hears in his mind and scrunches his face keeping his eyes closed.

“Hey Lou,” he thinks he hears again but it is so loud in the club that he could having an audial hallucination. He turns away from the noise, keeps his eyes shut and hands on his heart, protected.

He thinks he feels something on his cheek but at this point he’s one errant stimulus away from absolute overdrive. He does his best to shut everything out but he feels it building up in his system and he needs to leave NOW. He hears the 5 second countdown starting and he makes his way toward the staircase.

He sees Harry in close proximity to another man and he’s leaning in close to his ear. Louis sees him, stops and surge of red rage rises up in his body and his senses white-out. He can no longer feel his feet. His heart is pounding, he can’t breathe and he needs to get the fuck out now. He’s not ready to see Harry with anyone else. He’s overestimated his capacity to be around people and he gets as far away from Harry and whoever the fuck that other guy was as he can before he truly blows up and melts down. He slips his iPhone out and puts his ear buds in and books it toward the stairs as fast as he can and gets the hell out of there. He senses a bit of commotion as he’s leaving but chalks it up to the countdown. This club in his rear view is the only thing that needs to happen now.


	18. Chapter 18

It took him an hour to walk home but he’s glad he did because he was a bit calmer and he didn’t think he could handle taking public transport with anyone. When you want to disappear from society, the options get somewhat limited.

There are still so many questions swimming around in his head it feels like he's been living in an alternate dimension. 

 _A baby shower on New Years?_ He is confused about the baby shower and why something like that happened without him knowing about it or fucking planning it! That was all kinds of bullshit and Louis is pretty bitter. And by people he didn't know.  _A baby shower on New Years?  A baby shower on New Years at a night club for a teenager? Honest to god, what the fuck?_ He saw Harry with someone else though he is trying not to read too much into it. Truth be told, the thought of it infuriates him. 

He could spend *hours* pondering it and probably will. Nothing is making sense. Nothing....and just when he thought he was getting his shit together. The universe had some surprises for him. 

He rummages around his kitchen and of course he has no food. _What kind of proper adult am I_? he wonders.  He scrounges around through some boxes and bags marked ‘kitchen’ and finds some saltine crackers and some jelly and has a little meal. It’s yucky but somehow it’s enough to take the edge off and distract him from his racing thoughts.

He’s in the bathroom about to take his makeup off and contacts out when he hears his phone actually ringing. It’s about 130 and what the fuck? He picks up the unknown number and affirms when the voice at the other end asks if this is Doctor Lou. The woman explains she is calling from Manchester Memorial hospital and that a Mr. Harry Styles was calling out for him while he was being wheeled into the Emergency department and continued into the pre-op unit, too, and they found his number in Harry’s phone and his card in Harry’s wallet. She asked if they knew each other and he affirmed that, too. She asked if he could get a hold of Harry’s next of kin and get them to the hospital as soon as possible as that would help the consent and surgery process a lot. Since Harry is a minor, the hospital is limited in what they can do without parental consent. She was not able to give Louis any information but said that they are barely able to manage his pain and that he is ready for surgery.

He calls Anne right away and she picks up with a slurred voice. He can barely explain what he discussed with the surgical nurse but he says he will pick her up right away. She is with his mum, too. Dan is home so his mum hops in the car, as well. They are both slightly hammered, staggering to the car using each other for support and he’s quite scared, worried about Harry and also angry with them that they are in charge of Harry’s health decisions right now. He tosses a container of Altoids at them and instructs them to eat as many as they can stand because they reek of booze. And when you’re sober on New Year’s Eve—on a night like his, after a week like this—other people’s alcohol and intoxicant behaviour is absolutely unpalatable.

He gets them there as quickly as he can. There are police out in force tonight and he doesn’t want to get ensnared in a traffic stop and get delayed. When they arrive, they are quickly instructed where to go and in a matter of minutes Anne is being ushered into the surgical suite to meet with the surgical staff and hopefully, see Harry. She comes out a few minutes later with tears in her eyes and she stands at the waiting room door and motions for someone to join her, saying, “They need to talk to you.” Louis jumps up and she tells him to sit down and that they want to talk to Jay since she is Harry’s midwife and happens to be right there.  

Bubbles of anxiety, defensiveness and possessive care and concern for Harry well up like an ardent army in Louis’ being. He wants to be there. He wants to see him and comfort him. He wants to kiss and hold him. In his mind, he has every right to be in there, too. After all, Harry asked for him and not these other two loopy lushes. To their credit, they did pull it together and appear somewhat sober.

The more time he has to spend waiting, the more he gets in his head and worries. The whole thing pisses him off, too. In his mind, Harry is everything possible and imaginable but in the eyes of the medical staff, Louis is absolutely no one, not even a real doctor that has medical privileges or is permitted unrestricted access at Harry’s bedside like proper partner. The fact that he can do nothing substantial to help Harry in his time of need fills his body with electric anxiety. He jumps out of his chair and starts pacing the hallway. It’s almost 230 now and he’s going batty with how badly he needs an update.

He sees a phone in the hallway for the surgical suite. He picks it up and is connected with someone at the nurse’s station. She asks if he is a family member and since he is not he is not allowed to have any information. He asks to pass the message on to Harry’s mum to come out and give him an update, please when she has a moment though his anxious heart yells STAT. She said she’d pass along the message and to have a good night.  He bristles and hangs up. He has visions of wheeling Harry down to the courthouse on the gurney right fucking now and getting married. He never wants to go through this shit again.

Anne emerges several long minutes later, flanked by Jay and he is updated. Harry apparently fell down the stairs at an adults-only club at the stroke of midnight. Apparently he was chasing someone, lost his footing and fell down two flights of stairs. He has a broken ankle, which was already sprained, which needs to be surgically pinned and there’s some concern that he is bleeding internally as there is heavy bruising around his abdomen and rectal bleeding.

No one is coming out and saying he was chasing Louis or that he is to blame, but the way the two mums are looking at him, it’s like they’re silently accusing him of putting Harry in harm’s way. He hasn’t even mentioned that he was at the club or anything but somehow it all seemed rather obvious that Harry was after the man before them.

To top it off, Jay got in a fight with the surgeon because she was saying that Harry wanted to keep the baby and have a natural birth and that they shouldn’t do an emergency C-section unless Harry’s or the baby’s life was at risk. Apparently the surgeon wanted to ‘help’ Harry by medically aborting the fetus and there was quite a fight.   Seeing Jay and hearing her retell the story of the fight with the surgeon saying, ‘I am the last person you need to talk to about this! I am Harry’s midwife!’ made Louis quite proud of his mum and was instantly reminded that they are cut from the same cloth. The way Anne held on to Jay’s arm, leaning on her cemented it that she was grateful for his mum’s love, care, friendship and advocacy. They were a little family, those two sisters.

The best part of the awful story is that Harry kept calling out for him. Apparently Harry put on quite a show. The nurses all acted it out to the mums who saw some levity in it, “Call Lou. Lou. Lou. Lou. Call Lou. I want my Lou. Louis Tomlinson. Doctor Tomlinson. I only want Doctor Tomlinson. Call Lou please. Then one would chime in, ‘Harry can we call your mum?’ No, I only want Lou! Call Lou. Get Doctor Tomlinson here now.” Apparently as he was getting some pain medication, he got even more belligerent and wouldn’t speak to any of the doctors unless it was his own personal doctor, Doctor Tomlinson and so they needed him to come to the hospital to help get things underway for Harry. Everyone that came in to talk to Jay and Anne had some version and it would end up with everyone giggling about his obstinance and demands.   

Hearing that Harry wanted him and only him made him feel good even though everything else was breaking his heart. They waited together for a few more hours and then Harry was transferred to intensive care since there was still a risk that he was bleeding internally and there’s nothing they can do but watch his vital signs and wait to see how his body reacts. The surgeon warned that Harry would also be intubated with a breathing tube in his trachea and that he could not talk. He explained this was fairly standard and although it looks very uncomfortable, it is essential that Harry keep it in because he is so sedated it is the only way to safely protect his airway.

When the team emerged through the double doors, it looked like an intense swarm around the bed pushing it with various monitors and the IV poles down the hall. They followed the team to the intensive care unit, ICU, and Louis craned his neck to get a good look at Harry. From what he could see, Harry looked bloated, pasty and quite ill. He had wires coming from his chest that looked like they were hooked up to a machine along with a light band-aided to his finger.  He was also casted up to the knee and was traveling with a respiratory team to manage the breathing tube during transport. Everything looked elaborate and complex, but the team looked calm and focused. He tapped into that energy and let himself be assured somewhat. When they got to the double doors at the intensive care unit, they were instructed to wait outside while the team gets him hooked up to the monitors, gets his IV fluids and medications hung and get him settled.

Louis is coming apart but tries to be strong for his and Harry’s family. The last time he saw Anne he was begging for forgiveness and she was giving him the stink eye and preventing him from seeing Harry. His mind drifts back there and wonders if things had been different all of this could have been prevented. He gets a bit of relief secretly assigning bits of blame to other people but realizes that it is not helpful to do that, so he’s back to feeling worried like hell.

The charge nurse meets them in the ICU waiting room and says that since it is after visiting hours only immediate family may remain with Harry. Louis quickly protests and said that Harry was asking for him. She smiled when she heard his name and he realized that the surgical staff probably shared Harry’s antics.  She asks Anne if it ok to allow Louis to visit very quickly before he has to leave. Anne agrees he can visit after she does. The nurse brings her inside the unit and it seems like he has to wait forever to see Harry. He can’t even talk to his mum. He just stares at the door waiting for Anne to come through to get him. He is becoming obsessed with time and feeling out of control.

Eventually, she brings him back and gives him a brief rundown of what to expect. Harry is really sedated. He is not in pain. He can hear you so watch what you say but he cannot respond because he is medically paralyzed and on a lot of medications.  They are trying to keep him on as low of a dose of meds as they can due to the pregnancy and the risks to the fetus, so he may start to wake up and then they need to figure out how to keep him lightly sedated. This means no loud noises. No touching him too much. It is ok to hold his hand but not ok to touch him elsewhere.

He approaches the bedside with Anne and the nurse gives him a terse smile and continues watching the monitors and charting. He instinctively goes into to hold him and give him a kiss, but Anne restrains him and reminds him that he is only allowed to gently hold his hand. He nods and sits at the bedside and starts crying. The nurse hands him some Kleenex and his eyeliner is smudging quite a bit. He takes his glasses off and sets them on the bed. He’s relieved Harry is a little blurry. It eases his mind that he can’t clearly see the monitors and medical equipment; it allows his brain to calm and he is able to tune into Harry on a less realistically traumatic level. He’s glad Harry can’t see him as he’s sure he looks terrible, too. He gives Anne a look and she turns and leaves the bedside, albeit begrudgingly.

He stands up and delicately gives Harry a kiss on his cheek. The nurse rushed over and instructed him to be very careful with the breathing tube—like don’t even get near it. He lays his head flat on the bed and starts talking to Harry’s right ear. He tells him how much he loves him and that he is there for him, his Lou, his Lou is there and his Lou loves him.  He tells him about the baby and how Harry has to stay strong for the baby. How the baby had a bit of a bouncy ride down the stairs and that the baby needs his rest, too. He tells Harry that he wants to and will do everything in his power to be the best partner for him and for the baby as well. He tells him that he loves the baby and hopes that he will call him Papa.

Louis runs his right hand slowly down the bed and carefully to avoid the IV lines and tubes and rests it on Harry’s belly. The nurse takes notice and doesn’t say anything, so he adds in some belly rubs while he continues talking to Harry. He rubs lower until he hears a plasticy crunchy noise and realizes that Harry must be wearing an adult diaper. It all settles in that Harry is truly in an intense medical situation. The thought of losing Harry almost throws him into a spiral. He pulls himself from the abyss and grounds himself by touching Harry’s very real body and having faith that they have many more years together.

He takes a deep breath and tells him that he can feel the baby and that the baby loves his Daddy. He tells him that the baby is a gift that reminds him of what heaven must be like and perhaps his name is Skye. He leans in really close and tells Harry that he wants more than anything to be a family with him and to marry him. He creeps closer and gives him a kiss on his cheeks again and tells him he loves him now and always will.

He slips out his iPhone and puts an ear bud in Harry’s left ear and one in his own right ear and he locates the song that he thinks would soothe Harry the most right now. “I’ve noticed you’ve been singing this one quite a bit around the flat and I listen to it and think of you. I saw that you downloaded all of this band’s albums on my phone.” He laughs and tsks him a bit with a ‘kids these days’ comment. “I love you so much, Harry. I’m going to sing your parts, too, but when you get better I want you to sing this song for me, ok?” He reaches down to Harry’s right hand and slips his own inside and presses play with his free hand. The opening music plays and his heart fills to the point of hurting. The words start and he feels some relief letting them out. The more he sings the better he feels. It’s all quiet but you can hear him sing into soulfully Harry’s right ear, “If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you. I think I might just give up everything just ask me to. Pay attention, I hope that you listen cause I let my guard down. Right now I am completely defenseless.  For your eyes only, I show you my heart. For when you’re lonely and forget who you are. I’m missing half of me when we’re apart. Now you know me, for your eyes only. For your eyes only.”

He chokes up and can’t continue but he keeps his head there and hums in time. When the song is over, his heart is full to the brim and his eyes are leaking steadily again.  He takes out the ear buds and slips the device back into his pocket. He tells Harry he loves him and that when he wakes up, he will be there for him. And that he loves him and the baby again. With one or two more kisses to the cheek and a kiss to his hand, Louis leaves the bedside and drives home.

He makes it home as dawn breaks and it’s already the new year and he feels like so much has changed. He rolls around on the bed and psychically syncs up to Harry who is quite drugged and in a few minutes Louis is fast asleep.

It’s probably the stress of the last week and certainly the last 8 hours but he had the wildest visions and was quite unsettled when he woke up. He chalked it up to anxiety dreams and checked his phone. No new messages that he cares about, so he lays in bed and envisions a life with Harry and their kids and what it is all going to look like. He sees them moving and that more and more kids fill the house. He sees Harry feeding the babies and making lunches while he rushes off to work. He sees sunshine and freedom. He sees a happy future with Harry and lets that energy fill his body. All his needs are met. The universe provides. It has already happened. No worry or fear. Just be open to receiving your gifts. He can touch it, taste it, feel it and knows it deep within his knowing. He allows that healing energy to take root in his body. He sends Harry a deep healing thoughtform and prays for Harry’s body to repair itself the best way it can to enable Harry to have the greatest health outcome. He sees the bones knitting together and that the bleeding around his organs stops. Harry is not sedated and he is waiting in the hospital bed for him.  

He writes everything down in their therapy journal and notes how it feels in his body now that it has happened. He is at peace. He packs his journal into his hipster bag and heads down to the hospital. When he arrives, Anne is at the bedside and Harry is sleeping. He has just gotten the breathing tube removed and apparently he fought it quite a bit.  Louis can see the pain on Anne’s face just telling him bits and pieces about it and he tells her he doesn’t want to know any details when she describes Harry waking up and thrashing around and coughing up the tube. She said the upshot is that Harry probably can’t talk because he’ll be too raspy, with perhaps some swollen vocal cords also contributing to his inability to speak naturally. He shows her the pencil and journal and she gives him a thumbs up and leaves the bedside to brush her teeth and get some breakfast.

As soon as the curtain is closed, he leans right up and gives Harry a big kiss on his mouth. He lips are dry and there’s some adhesive from the tape that was securing the tube left on the sides of his mouth. His breath is hospital-y smelling and Louis kisses him again and imagines the stinky sweetness to be ice cream or something.  His face is still swollen and kind of waxy from the IV fluids and medication he’s presuming, but once he connects his lips to Harry, that’s his boy right there. He rubs his hands through Harry’s hair and kisses his cheeks. He tells him that his Lou is there and he doesn’t need to open his eyes but that he’s here with him and that he’s going to be ok. He leans down and kisses the baby bump, too. The nurse walked in on him doing that and whispers congratulations to him. He just smiles. He doesn’t have it in him to tell her the truth so he smiles and keeps kissing Harry’s belly. He looks up from Harry’s belly and asks the nurse how he is doing. She asks him if he is a family member or legal partner and he says that he is not so she can’t release any updates. She asks if he is Lou and he nods. She said the surgical staff gave her an update and that he would probably be asking for him. She gave him a knowing smile and said that when they took the tube out he was trying to call out but that his cords were swollen and he couldn’t talk, but that if she had to bet money, he was asking for Lou. This made him feel really good. He laid his head down next to Harry’s and laid an arm across his chest snuggling him carefully. “I love you, Harry. I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Harry opened his eyes briefly and looked at Louis with groggy heart eyes. He tried to talk but got frustrated so he closed his eyes and shook his head. Louis offered him a pencil and the journal. He smiled and scribbled a big heart with the word Sky. It was hard to read but Louis asked him if that is what he meant to write. He smiled and pointed to his belly and shook his head affirmatively.

“Ohhhhh, Skye? That’s the name of your baby. Skye?”

Harry nodded and reached out for Louis’ hand. He’s still weak and quite uncoordinated, so Louis met him half way and took his hand and brought it up to his lips. He loves this boy with all his heart.  

“Skye Styles has a lovely sound to it, Harry. I love it. How did you come up with that name?”

Harry fixes him with a look like he’s not falling for that trick and nods his head toward Louis.

“Oh, so you remember some of what I said last night? The doctors said that you would not but I’m glad you did.” He gives him a sweet kiss to his hand transmitting that he meant every word. “Tell me Harry, what else do you remember?”

Harry draws their initials H.S + L.T and a big heart around it with a little S.S-T beneath it.

Louis started squealing and jumping up and down and holding Harry’s hand.

“Harry, I was ready to wheel you down to the courthouse last night and become your husband, like immediately.” Harry jerked his thumb in a let’s go motion.  “I’ll tell you the full story later but apparently you were calling out for me." he blushes and a proud looks overtakes his eyes. "So the hospital called me and asked me to get a hold of your mum because you were a minor and they couldn't do anything without parental permission. Anyway, when I picked your mum up she was wasted and she was with my mum, so here’s me, your nobody-- _the one you were screaming for_ \--completely sober entrusting your care to our two drunk mums. My mum got into a battle royale with your surgeon. It was wild.”

Harry bobs his head like he can imagine all that happening. A look of pain gripped Harry’s body and he asks the nurse if Harry can have something. He hates seeing his love like this and not being able to help. His eyes train on Harry’s face and he rubs soothing circles in his hair. Harry always loves that.

Louis realizes he’s missing one crucial piece and jumps in to Harry’s space, grasping both of his hands. “Babe, I’m so sorry about everything. I am so sorry about last night. I tried to give you your space and respect your wishes but seeing you there and all those people, I started to have a bit of a panic attack and needed to go. I saw you cuddled up with another man and whispering and I freaked and ran. I didn’t know you were coming after me. I put my ear phones in and ran down the stairs. I’m so sorry. I would have never run from you. Only to you. I love you so much, Harry. There’s so much I see for us. I want more than anything to have this,” he points to Harry’s drawing, “with you and the baby.”

Harry brings his hands to his mouth and gives them kisses.

“Tell me we have time, Harry. That we still have a chance. There’s so much I want to share with you. Now might not be the right time.” Harry smiles like maybe it is and his eyes tell him to spill it, so Louis lays it all out for him and tells him about the major life changes he’s undertaking to be a better partner for Harry and the baby and be a better person for himself.

He takes his phone out and snaps a quick pic of Harry’s drawing and saves it as the lock screen and the wallpaper, for inspiration he claims which makes Harry smile widely.

“Harry, your mum will be back like any minute so I just want to tell you how much I love you and always will. You are my soulmate and I know that. I will do anything and everything to make this work out the best for our little family, if you choose to be in one with me. You’d make me the happiest man alive for the rest of my life, I know it.” Harry’s eyes get wide as saucers and his mouth opens in a big O. “Don’t worry, I’m not proposing to you right now….unless that’s what you want. What I am saying is when you decide it’s time, let’s go ring shopping and pick out china patterns and lots of baby clothes.  I want to be with you forever. I know that. I just want to pledge myself to you right here, right now so you know I mean it and I’m ready to commit.”

Harry pulls Louis’ hands downward like he wants to snuggle and Louis cuddles with him the best he can. Anne pulls back the curtain and gives the two a knowing smile and big kiss each to their cheeks.  

Louis excuses himself when the nurse comes with the pain medicine and he vows to return by lunchtime and Harry gives him a wide smile complete with dimples and eye crinkles.

Anne takes Harry’s hand and wipes a tear forming in his eye, “What you two have is very special and I think if you put in the time, you’d both be happy with each other. I mean, I met your father when I was quite young, too, but it wasn’t like this. I don’t want you to look and your dad’s and my marriage and lose hope. We weren’t well suited, but you and Louis have a lot more raw material to work with. I hope you keep an open mind about things and don’t shut him out because you think you’ll end up like your dad and me. I don’t see that for you. You don’t have to panic at the first sign of trouble. You work through it. Nothing is perfect but when you have a deep deep love like you two have, then there’s hope and you don’t give up on that.”

He smiles at her and blows her a dry kiss and closes his eyes and falls asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought for two seconds about having Harry die at the end of this chapter, but decided against it.  
> Unrelated, my grandma died yesterday and we inherited her parakeet, Sky. RIP! But the name Skye has nothing to do with my granny's bird. Obviously. 
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this so far. I will write more soon. Just grieving a bit and have a busy practice and 2 kids....life of a doctor mom.


	19. Chapter 19

Harry woke up to the sounds of someone in distress from across the unit. The medication he’s on puts him into an active dreaming state and he’s startled awake from what he thought was his nightmare is in fact, actually some else’s reality. His heart jumps and he comforts himself superficially with a little hug with his free arm, the one without the IV.

The baby wildly squirms and Harry imagines the baby trying to find a safe spot to grow but is bombarded by bad vibes or something.

He puts his hands on his belly in an effort to block the screaming and moaning coming from somewhere on his left. When the baby doesn’t settle, Harry hums Twinkle Twinkle Little Star over and over while he rubs his belly connecting with the beautiful being he feels inside.

Jay showed him where some of the baby parts are and how to locate them. He moves his hands across the upper right side of his abdomen and pushes in until he feels the round hardness that is likely his baby’s bottom and he rubs and pats it attempting to soothe his baby.

His voice is still raspy from being extubated and he realizes that if he had to scream to let someone know he needs help, he probably couldn’t do it. He can make noise, but his words are unintelligible. And he’s alone. His mum went home for the night and Louis is not allowed at the bedside during non-visiting hours because he’s not family or a legal spouse--that fact alone drives a little nail into Harry’s heart.

He hears intense beeping, people shuffling around, what sounds like equipment being activated and the distinct sounds of family members stressing out with muffled tears, wailing pleas for help, strength and survival.

 He feels coated in the burning anxiety and thick, drippy uncertainty of life and he’s picking up on the emotional charge of everyone around him.  He’s bombarded by sensations of pressure and tension--and feels like it’s sink or swim, but he’s trapped: his leg is casted and propped up on so many pillows,  his chest is hooked up to EKG wires, there’s a stupid light on his finger measuring oxygen that beeps every time he moves, the rails on the bed are up as a standard, so he couldn’t get out even if he wanted. And the bed is clinical smelling and kind of crunchy due to the plastic chux pads beneath him in case he soils the bed.  

He can’t wait to get the heck out of here.

His left hand is connected to an IV which is taped very securely in place. Apparently, as he was coming to and waking up from his medical coma, he thrashed so hard that he pulled everything off including his IV causing blood and fluids to leak on the bedding. He also got very close to pulling out his endotracheal tube and had to be physically restrained by what seemed like an army of nursing and medical staff. Thankfully, he doesn’t remember much more than fleeting visions of arms and stern faces but his body recorded each impression. He still has bruises from where he was held down and a new IV placed, and he feels sore everywhere.

 All around him are indications of his fragility. He remembers chasing after Louis during the countdown and just wanting so much to be safe in his arms, lips-to-lips,  but his bum ankle was making him unsteady and his pleas were drowned out by the chaotic atmosphere and he fell hard down the stairs.

The tiara dug into his head and scratched his scalp. It’s itching now but he can’t quite reach it to relieve himself of its unrelenting reminder. People reached out for him to help him break his fall but a soft landing wasn’t in the cards. Five days later, everything still hurts and he reminisces about gentler times.

He thinks about what if he and Louis had a quiet night in on New Years or if he had responded to any of his texts or if he had just opened his mouth and said what he wanted to instead of punishing Louis with his silence, whether things would have been different. In his heart, he has his answer. He knows.

He thinks about whether things would have been different if allowed himself to be strong and not listen to the fears swirling in his head twisting his heart and leaving it for dead.

He thinks about putting his baby at risk with the fall and the surgery and all of the medications and he becomes overwhelmed with emotions, but he can’t cry because it hurts too much.  

He wants out. He wants a re-do. He wants to go back in time and say everything he didn’t allow himself to say then.

He imagines helping Louis move into his new place and sharing marmite chicken served on paper plates while sitting on some pillows leaned up against boxes for support. He sees himself cozied up in his boyfriend’s big bed tracing the outline of Louis’ scruffy jaw while he sleeps. He feels the softness of the sheets and wrapping himself with the constellation duvet on his front and Louis on his back. This is what heaven must feel like.

What if all that was required was for him to be brave and be honest about his feelings and fears? Would he be allowed access to that gentle, loving experience or would he be locking himself out? Would he raise his child alone like his mother did? Would Louis leave like his father did? He gazed into the theatre in his mind and immediately becomes static.

He feels sweaty and unsettled. Both of them were raised without fathers, so there’s so many unknowns. Too many for all the questions in his mind dangling awaiting finality. In his gut, he knows. His survival instinct assures him all will be well against the insecurities lining up in his imagination.

 _Hold tight, Daddy_ , he tells himself over and over until the words gain a bit of traction in his system and his anxiety relents just a noticeable tad.

His baby bounces around and the gown he’s wearing rises with the activity. He feels a little wetness between his legs and he moves the gown to see if there is some blood or baby fluid leaking out. He had rectal bleeding for the first 3 days and daily ultrasounds to make sure the baby is ok.

He slides his gown to the side to assess and feels the moisture  right between his legs and some on the bedding. He swipes his hand in it and brings it to his nose. Just pee, probably and that’s another thing that been a surprise for him: every time he coughs, sneezes, laughs hard or some innocuous activity, he dribbles out a little pee.

17 years old, 27 weeks pregnant, third trimester and he cannot control his bodily functions. It’s made for some awkward conversations with Louis when they are fooling around that his wetness is not pre-come but actual piss--and he is gassy and sometimes toots just slip out. He has to change underpants several times per day and keeps baby wipes on hand to freshen up all areas of his downstairs. Sign of the times.

He reaches a hand in his armpits and drags it to his nose and winces.  Dang, he is stinky! He keeps refusing the bed baths. Doesn’t feel right to have these strangers touching him. No one has offered him a shower, probably because of the cast and he could really use a proper scrubbing right now.

He instinctively reaches for his phone but realized that it has been dead for a few days and he is not supposed to use it in the ICU anyway but he would break the rules to send a text or several to his boyfriend.

_Boyfriend…...boyfriend._

As if right on cue, Louis pokes his head through the curtain. “Mornin’ Muffin.”

Harry smiles brightly at him and mouths back "Mornin' Muffin" but nothing comes out except some breathy rasps. He reaches out toward him and then quickly puts his arms down firmly by his side.

Louis cocks his head and frowns at his beau. “What’s up, babe?” He offers Harry some of the orange juice on his bed side table which he accepts gratefully. 

“I tink!” Harry rasps out. His voice is still not strong. Louis give hims a PeeYew face and sticks his tongue out.

“Let’s give you a bath then, hmm.” He disappears behind the curtain and reappears a few minutes later with two basins and a few towels slung over his arms. The day shift nurse followed closely behind with fresh linens and gown.

After a quick explanation of what to touch and what not to and a refusal of additional help, the bath gets underway.

Louis closes the curtains as closely as he can to protect Harry’s privacy  and hands Harry a warm, soapy flannel. Harry scrubs his face and rinses it in the clean water basin. It takes a few iterations for Harry to feel sufficiently clean. He takes his free hand and rubs it along the upper chest and neck.

Louis follows behind with a dry towel and punctuates the task with kisses on the freshly scrubbed areas. Harry leans forward and Louis washes his back making sure to reach down as far as he can. Harry smells sweaty and under other circumstances this might be a turn-on but at the mo, he focuses on being efficient and keeping Harry comfortable.

He pulls some Kiehl’s creme de corps out of his bag and starts massaging Harry’s back earning very appreciative noises and coos.  He learned some body work from watching his mum with her labouring clients and his hands know just where to go. Harry has called him magic and feeling Harry's muscles release under his hands makes him believe it.

“Everything hurts,” Harry moans. “Can’t wait to see Liam. Been missing him.”

Louis leans down and rubs his face on Harry’s head. He takes a curl in his hand and gives it a drawn out long tug, and whispers, “Is that all, Harry?”

Harry looks up at him with an undisguised look that conveys what he cannot say aloud. He lifts the bottom of the gown to expose his bare pelvis and legs.

Louis yelps a bit and his body retracts involuntarily. Harry quickly covers up and stares into his boyfriend’s wide eyes and raises his shoulders in response.

“Who did that? Did you?” Louis asks quietly while pointing to Harry’s now covered pelvis. His body shivers and he looks a bit distressed.

“What?” Harry asks like he's genuinely confused.

Louis’ hands swirl and he grimaces, “You’re bare down there. Did someone shave you?”

“Ahh,” Harry realizes and hangs his head. “No.”

After a few drawn moments, Harry looks up and they exchange looks. A myriad of expressions bounce between the pair. Louis’ are mostly of the yucky, cringe variety and Harry’s playful, apologetic.

“Babe, please. Hair is a good thing. Especially with us. I just can’t. You look young….” he cringes and looks away.

“Sorry, Lou,”  Harry rasps. “trying something new.”

“Ok, but why?” Louis leans in close.

“Thought you were losing interest in me,” Harry whispers back and coughs a little bit at the end. His voice still rough.

Louis places the straw of Harry’s drink gently in his mouth and Harry gulps down the rest in quick succession. Louis refills his glass and places the straw near Harry’s mouth. He sucks it up with his lips and takes three sips and indicates that he is finished.

“Thanks.”

“Harry, I have no idea why you would think that. I thought you were done with me to be honest." Louis exhales deeply and reaches for Harry's free hand. He brings it to his lips and plants several kisses to it. "Let's talk about all this. I want to make this work and want you to be happy."  He gives him a few more kisses finishing off with a concerned look. "Was there something in particular that you wanted to do differently? With us?"

A blush crept up on Harry's cheeks and he shook his head.

"What?" Louis teased.

Harry shook his head and smiled shyly.

"C'mon, tell me Styles." Louis leaned in and pinched his cheeks.

Harry shakes his head.

"Wanna keep going before your water gets cold?"

Harry nods and he carefully moves the gown exposing himself. Louis hands him a soapy flannel and he reaches under his bump to gently scrub his penis and scrotum while Louis makes quick work of washing Harry's legs carefully avoiding the cast as instructed.

"Wanna hand?" Louis winks at him earning him a pensive look and a nod. He rinses Harry's flannel and starts carefully cleaning Harry's penis and inner thighs. 

Louis rinses him and bends down and gives the head a quick kiss and fondles Harry's freshly washed balls. He quickly looks at Harry who is laying eyes closed in the bed, elbows bent behind his head. He retracts the foreskin and swirls his tongue around Harry's head. Harry's hand quickly covers his mouth and the IV machine starts beeping. Louis quickly covers Harry just in time.

"Hello, Harry. Everything ok in here?" the nurse questions as she assesses his IV site in his left hand and resets the machine. "Just about done?"

Harry and Louis affirm and she prepares the gown and the bed roll for the linen change. "Actually, Harry, we are going to get you out of bed today. If you do well, we will likely discharge you to the rehab unit tomorrow or the next day. How does that sound?"

Harry and Louis let out little cheers and high five each other and then the nurse. 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is awful, but short. I'm sorry for the uncomfortable content. It was not fun to write but necessary for the story.
> 
> Richard's dad is a complete asshole, so he's involved in some shit here. TW: past child abuse and although it is not described, it is referenced implicitly. If you prefer not to read it, I will summarize what happens at the end of the chapter.  
> You might have been wondering what happened to Richard....here we go.

(About 6 months ago….)

The stench of bleach rising up from the floor makes him retch  even more into the pristine bowl coating it a thick yellow-green with bile. Any food contents were evacuated at least an hour ago when he first hung his head inside the toilet. He could barely eat before Harry arrived and even then just a few crackers to settle his nerves.  His mouth recalls the feel and weight of Harry’s cock ghosting his tongue and throat. The memory makes his body contract with repulsion and he vomits again.

Pungent odors bombard his senses as a constant reminder that even his body is unwelcome here--that perfection and order are the only modes of operation acceptable in this home. He’s often thought about ending it and what that would look like. Would he leave a big mess to clean up or just disappear like his mum? Which would be a bigger Fuck You?

He senses the parts that are completely under his father’s control activating with a spark of independence and it lights him up. In a flicker, he’s able to see himself distinct from his father and the distance terrifies him; even though this release is his soul’s salvation, he sees the escape route as a trap.  He sees himself toying with some dimension of freedom but  immediately falls back into the familiar motions of his life.  

As much as he hates his father, the abuse is the only love he knows.

This cycle of recognizing the ugly, wanting out, seeing the door, walking through, being terrified, running back into the hell he knows and has been beaten deep into his psyche and cells, is the hell he deserves and that he should be grateful for the flames. This is a familiar circle he travels. He’s believed he’s a piece of rubbish his whole life. When you’re told something repeatedly, the filters through which you see the world become shit-coloured without you even realizing it.

The awareness that he is trapped here in his father’s house for at least another year with no Uni prospects or future plans is almost too much to bear and he feels his heart collapse further in on itself like a never-ending black hole.

He closes his eyes and allows himself to identify with the sensation of sinking into the pain. As the burning in his throat gets stronger he feels more alive. He imagines the burning spreading and it comforts him.

Thoughts of Harry float by and the cloud of care, concern and sweetness that emanate from him are so foreign to Richard’s emotional baseline that he regards it contemptuously, even though on some level he’d like to try-on a little of what Harry’s got. He’d like to let those feelings in and experience those seemingly pleasant sensations even superficially but when he’s presented with them in the flesh, his reaction is borderline xenophobic. Too foreign, too suspicious, all human receptors shut down.

In his mind, he holds Harry at a distance. He tries to keep him far enough away so Harry won’t become contaminated with Richard’s inherent contagion he sees himself as in his mind's eye. He doesn’t want to be seen by Harry but longs to be in his presence even as an observer or spectator. To have Harry's touch and attention fry his circuits a bit and he finds himself rejecting Harry out of hand as it is easier to turn Harry away than to look deeply at himself.

Richard often imagines knowing Harry under different circumstances. Maybe he could have been a good boyfriend to Harry if things were different. He attempts to put in place some conscious parts where he acts like he thinks a good boyfriend would but it’s more honest to sabotage it. Harry deserves better.  

He belittles and chastises himself for disclosing a small slice of his true self to Harry today. Harry certainly hadn’t had the awareness about the extent of abuse that Richard has endured and from the look on his face it was clear he was very concerned. He imagines Harry contacting the authorities and Richard’s father being led to jail in handcuffs. _God, maybe tonight it ends_ , he muses though he's learned it is unwise to have expectations about someone else or about life in general. The scales of justice tip back in his mind and he sees himself testifying against his father in a court of law and recounting the lifetime of felonies his father perpetrated against him. Flashes of freedom and justice light up his mind and he can feel tiny tendrils of strength returning to his body. He lifts his head from the toilet seat and a memory of his father assaulting him floods his mental theatre and his stomach clenches as his body attempts to expel the poison from his infected thoughts.

He’s been told he deserves it and the self-directed hateful pain soothes him in spite of knowing there’s something corrupt about feeling this way about himself. It is what he knows.

He stands up and carefully removes his father’s military uniform with pride. Wearing it makes him feel manly and also immune from facing up to the sort of shitty way he treats Harry. He's empowered and protected by the sins of his father. He folds it up impeccably neat and places it it on top of the toilet seat. He has no idea what time it is and figures a shower will restore his senses.

The hot water against his body only made him feel more, more of what he wanted to keep unconscious. He quickly turned the handle to cold and felt his skin react to the icy water pelting him. He scrubbed himself until his skin was red and he smelled clean enough to cover up gaping holes in his conduct.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door cautiously. It had been at least an hour since he’d seen Harry and he presumed he’d gone home by now.

 

“Harry. Harry? Harry are you here?” he calls out and when no one answered, he breathed a sigh of relief and switched the movie off.

“Who are you talking to?” he heard a gruff voice call out from across the house; his panic rising as the footsteps got closer.

Richard felt a life-threatening anxiety overtake him as he quickly assesses the living room for signs of overt sexual evidence. He sees some beverage containers and snacks which are innocent enough to pass off as a revision session amongst pals.

“ I said, who are you talking to?” his father eyes him wearing a towel around his midsection and takes a step toward him with balled fists. His expression was cold and unreadable as he looks around the living room. “Who’s Harry?” his father asks pointedly narrowing his gaze at his son.

“No one.” As soon as he says it, he realizes it makes no sense. “A bloke from school,” he blurts out, “we revise together,” he quickly adds and tacks on “sometime,” to make it seem less suspicious.

“We’re leaving in 10 minutes. Clean this up and go to your room. In your backpack, put your laptop, charging cables and all essentials. Pack a suitcase for a week at your aunt’s.” He checks his watch, “Be here, ready,  in 9 minutes.”

In a whirlwind, Richard collects the entertainment items, rushes to the kitchen. He runs to the bathroom and quickly collects his dad’s uniform and stealthily deposits it in the dry cleaning bag. Then he zips to his room and returns as instructed with his backpack and a suitcase. He’s a bit out of breath but he is ready.

His father reaches out for the belongings. Richard hands them over hesitantly. “Go make sure your bird has enough food for the week and meet me at the car.”

Richards nods and shuffles upstairs.

Richard’s father opens the closet door and tosses the backpack unceremoniously inside causing the electronics to land hard on the tile. Unphased, he heads outside.   


Richard joins his father in the car which was already started and apparently in gear. As his arse hits the seat, the car lurches backward effectively slamming the door. He snaps his seat belt as his father glides through the stop sign.  A little dangerous, but par for the course. His dad has always been quite reckless.

The silence in the car is broken up only by the sound of his father smacking his gum rather aggressively. _This is some horror movie shite_ , Richard thinks to himself as the tension builds in the car. He feels really uneasy and has the desire to text Harry about what is going on when his phone buzzes in his front pocket.

As he reaches for his mobile, he feels his father’s eyes on him sending a disapproving look which stops his movements. He hears another text come in and his father asks who is so interested in his son.

He reaches for his phone and turns the screen away from his father. “Just a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” His dad lights up a cigarette and asks, “A girl friend?” he inhales deeply and smoke fills the car as he exhales, “or a boy friend?”

“Just someone from school,” Richard responds quickly. He feels trapped. “Where are we going?” he asks to change the subject and because he noticed they are going north on the M66 instead of west which raised his suspicions.

“Answer me.” His abrupt tone left no room for negotiation.

“Just a mate,” Richard answers tersely and sends Harry a quick text. He hits send as his dad snatched the phone from his hands.

“Who the fuck is Harry?” he demands around the cigarette jammed between lips as he scrolls through their message thread with his right hand. “Harry comes over a lot it seems. You two are quite close.”  His father scrolls further and then puts the mobile on his lap sending Richard a look that conveyed he’s forbidden to touch it but if he wants it he has to retrieve it from his father's lap and deal with the consequences.

Richard made a habit of deleting his and Harry’s message thread in case his father checked his phone. Only their messages from today are on the phone, so nothing too incriminating. His father has been increasingly paranoid since the break-in and he thinks someone is out to steal from him. Richard’s seen him walking the perimeter of the house before bed and checks the phone and light fixtures for surveillance equipment.

Moments pass which feel like lifetimes. The silence in the car feels crisp, cold, frozen blue.

“There’s no room for faggots in my home.” His father paused. “Do I make myself clear?”

Richard nodded.

“Do I make myself clear. Answer me, you little bitch.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes sir, what?”

“Yes, sir, there are no faggots allowed in your home.” Richard swallowed dry against the lump in his throat. “I understand.”

The phone buzzed again and his father picked it up,  “ ‘Tis from Harry. Shall I answer it for you?” as he rolled down his window and lobbed it on to the roadway.

Richard watched his phone shatter and bounce along for a second before getting smashed by the car behind them. 

“Where are we going?” Richard asked quietly while looking toward the window. Smoke fills the car and he feels like he is choking through his constricted airway.

“I’ve seen you two.”

Richard turns his body further away from his father.

“Been fucking that boy all over my house.” He turns and spits his venomous words toward Richard who is cowering in the passenger seat. “Got it all on video.”

“What?” Richard demanded feebly still facing the window.

“Had the video streaming to my mobile. Are you trying to get me fired? How would it look for a man like me to have that filth in my house? From my flesh and blood? You are disgusting.”

Richard realizes that he is not sure where he is other than heading north or possibly east.

His father places another cigarette between his lips and lights up. He offers the pack to Richard who takes one. “About time you are honest. Better to have this in your mouth than fag cock.”

After several minutes, Richard’s father pulls off of the roadway and makes a series of turns until stopping at a transit station. He gets out and retrieves Richard’s suitcase and lobs it on the sidewalk. He opens Richard’s door and takes him by the arm to forcibly remove him from the car.

His father places a ticket into his son’s hand and says, “They’ll be waiting for you,” before tossing the remaining pack of cigarettes and a 20 Pound note out the window and speeding off.

Richard picked up the note and the pack and sat on a bench and put his head in his hands and cried.

He looks at the ticket and doesn’t recognize the city he's in or the destination but knows that it is nowhere near his aunt’s house. The sun is setting and he has no money other than the 20 pounds his father tossed at him. He has no mobile,  no numbers memorized, no backpack with his most precious items and his train leaves in 10 minutes.

 He’s fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Brings us back to the last time Harry and Richard saw each other. Richard became physically ill after performing the blow job on Harry and vomits in the bathroom. Richard muses on the abuse he's endured from his father and imagines some resolution to his personal hell in disclosing some personal information to Harry who he hopes will contact the authorities.  
> His father comes home unexpectedly and tells him to pack his bags for a week at his aunt's home. En route, his father confronts him about his relationship with Harry, throws his cell phone out the window, tells him that he's seen streaming video of his son and Harry engaged in sexual acts (due to some hidden cameras). He drops Richard off at a train station far up north with a suitcase and a one-way train ticket to a place Richard has never heard of.


	21. Chapter 21

“Mr. uhhhh, errm, pardon me, Dr. Tomlinson, are you sure you understand everything?” the nurse gently asks as Louis affirms confidently while he packs up the remaining items from Harry’s hospital stay.

 Advance arrangements were made for Louis to take Harry home from the hospital since Anne had a mandatory work trip out the country for ten days and no relatives were available to accept responsibility for him.  It was becoming a very stressful situation for everyone involved since the hospital couldn’t keep him there until his mother returned and since Louis was a semi-responsible, very willing adult, he got the job predicated on the condition that Harry checks in with his mum every day and picks up when she rings.

“Harry, you are to follow up with a high-risk perinatologist as soon as possible and with an orthopedist in four weeks. You are to elevate your ankle whenever possible, cover it in plastic when bathing and if your foot becomes significantly colder or you start to have numbness or a burning sensation, you need to contact the orthopedist straight away as that could be serious. You don’t have any medications prescribed but you can take some pain relievers like paracematol every six hours if you’d like, but it is not recommended for long-term use,” she says as she makes marks on her checklist. “And any effects on the fetus are really not well-known,” she adds with an air of caution.

He nods his head and responds softly, “Thank you,” and extends his hand to her. She grasps it with both hands and gives him a comforting squeeze and warm smile.  He adds, “Thank you for taking care of me. I appreciate you. Can you also tell Nelly the night tech thank you for letting me sleep and John for all the funny stories?”

She smiles and with Louis’ help, they get him seated on the edge of the bed to get him dressed and transferred as graciously as possible into his wheelchair that Louis insisted have pillows on the seat and back. Also a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and arms—and cover up his belly so as not to draw undue attention. Only care and comfort for his Lovey.  

He’s got several bags for patient belongings on the handles of the wheel chair and insists on keeping the drawings from Louis’ siblings and artwork that brightened the walls in this hospital room on his lap so he can keep them safe. Precious items from the children he misses dearly.

Once Harry is loaded up and situated, the orderly wheels him to the parking lot and pivots him expertly into the seat of Louis’ car. With a wave and thanks to the orderly, they slowly ease off putting the grey medical establishment behind them.

This is the first time they’ve been alone together since mid-December just before Harry asked for space and hell broke loose.

As they headed onward toward an undiscussed destination, the road opened up as the internal environs constricted leaving the two occupants in shared stilted, yet symbiotic silence. The edges of their angular silhouettes carved out the distance between them despite their physical proximity. It was as if there were question marks on their bodies like a polarized second skin which repelled each other.

Something significant was hanging in the air; it was making both men uneasy. They comforted themselves by spacing out and suppressing their hypersensitive feelings.

Harry cleared his throat and Louis gave a shy smile and placed his hand tentatively on Harry’s leg.  He subtly tilted his head with a sly gaze to see if Harry pulled away, uneasy from his touch. He heard Harry exhale and shift his lower body away from Louis and leaned his head on Louis’ shoulder where it stayed for most of the drive down the highway. Harry slowly rocked his cheek and head along Louis’ soft blue sweater, like a needy kitty stroking her head on a beloved human. Soft humming noises were heard as Harry’s demeanor relaxed.

Louis reached his sweater paw up to gently squeeze the side of Harry’s face alternating with soft strokes along the jaw and running his warm fingers through Harry’s ringlets giving them an occasional slight pull down. Harry has always responded well to having his head massaged and hair played with.  They continued this side snuggle ritual until Louis needed to downshift and navigate traffic. Then with his free hand he placed it on Harry’s belly and sent love via soft caresses to the baby beneath the blankey.

“I love you, Lou.” Harry spoke these tender words softly toward Louis’ face, taking Louis’ free hand into his own and squeezing it transmitting his intention.

“I love you, too, Baby.” Louis responded sincerely, “And…I’m really sorry.” He quickly looked at Harry and said, “Things got kinda fucked up.” With a deep inhale, gathering strength, exhaling courage, “I fucked up and I’m really sorry, Harry. I mean it with my whole heart. I love you so much.” With the anxiety of a confessional at the tip of his lips, he quickly spills what he’s been holding inside.

“Boo, pull over,” Harry said sweetly.

“Almost home, Baby, can you wait like 10 minutes? Unless you have to pee, then I can pull over.”

Harry mumble-sighed and rested his hands on his belly giving his baby sweet rubs.

“Ohh ohh, Ooooh, the baby is moving so much!”

“You ok, my love?”

“Ummhmm, I think he just woke up. Your mum said he was having regular sleep cycles now. Oh boy, oh boy, he’s active.” Harry twisted and stretched uttering some soft groans. “I think he wants us to go see Dr. Liam to get his lil’ bellyhome straightened out. I bet he is all janked up from his rocky ride down the stairs. And the hospital bed….my back is aching….”

“I can call him right now. He’s been known to do a home visit in a pinch.” He takes out his mobile and hands it to Harry.

“Louuuuuu, whattttt’s upppp?” Liam boomed through the speakerphone giving both guys a start.

“Hiiii Liiiiiammm….” the guys replied and some giggles were heard in the background.

“Harry? Is that you? Where are you? Are you out of the hospital? Where is that big bummed man of yours? That you call ‘Dr. Tomlinson’….?” Liam teased as he did a mini impersonation of what was now Harry’s famous theatre speech eliciting unbridled laughter on both ends of the line.

They could tell that Liam wasn’t alone and decided to pry.

“What are you up to dear Doctor Liam? It sounds like you are having a fun Sunday,” Louis teased.

After a slight pause, Liam replied, “Well, maybe I am.” Some affectionate noises were heard then scuffling as if someone was trying to rassle and play fight.

“Ok, well sounds like you are real busy over there,” Louis goads. “Hey I didn’t know you had a new girlfriend. Secrets secrets, Liam.” Louis tsked.

“Uh, I don’t have a new girrrrlfriend, Lou and of course no secret…no secret’s safe with you. Gotta go bye! Love you Harry!! Bye Lou. Don’t fuck anything up! Bye! Let’s hang out soon, ok ok ok ok byeee!” was heard along with muffled laughter and giddy commotion until the call abruptly ended.

“Ohhhkaaay, hmmm ok. That was a bit weird,” Louis remarked rather suspiciously.

“But good for him.” Harry added, “And he’s so handsome, I’m sure he doesn’t stay single for long. God, all your friends are so hot!”

“Hey, watch it, you,” Louis scolds sweetly with a playful helping of jealousy that comes very naturally for him especially when Harry is involved.  He sends Harry a direct look of _YOU are mine mine mine_. He runs his fingers through his fringe and says, “I don’t want the baby to hear you talk like that.” Harry giggled and then Louis got into his nosy auntie character, “I guess we will find out later.” Louis gave a wide smile to Harry as the anxious tension was released from the air to resemble a semblance of normalcy between them.

“He sounded different. Like he was having some sexy play time,” Harry said while stroking Louis’ thigh giving playful squeezes to the muscles and sexiness beneath. “I’m getting jealous over here.”

“We’re almost home, Honey.”

“Can’t wait…” Harry breathed as his stroking pace picked up.

The January weather shifted from shivery windy gusts with a peek of sunlight to dreary grey slowness with darkening clouds above.

Wet drops streaked dramatically against the windshield batted about by the assertive swish of the car’s wipers and Harry’s thoughts drifted slowly as the swaying trees along the roadside and as tumultuous as their shaking leaves. Breathe in, breathe out. The alternating sensation of cool dry air in and warm moist air out superficially calmed his mind. He maintained a light disposition for Louis but just inside heavy deep thoughts brewed vacillating between anxiety and hope and edging toward an existential crisis of being dumped and comforted by the possibility that they could actually work it out. He knows so strongly that he loves Louis but equally fears that somehow it is just not in the stars for them. Harry distracts himself by rubbing gentle circles on his belly and sending love and assurance to his son that he will always be there for his boy. At least that much is certain.

He’ll swear his life on it.

“We’re home,” Louis says softly and pauses for Harry to take in his surroundings.

“It’s so nice, Lou,” Harry says admiringly and gives Louis a big dimpled smile.

“Well, we’re in the back of the main house, Silly. I haven’t won the lottery yet, Babe.” Louis pauses and adds, “Only with you.” His words are sweet and genuine but still, so much hangs in the air between them like emotional energetically-charged fog.

Louis helps the man he loves along the path toward the cottage as he is still awkward on the crutches and it pleases him to be of service.

After a quick tour of the small cottage, it was time to slow down and settle in. Louis brought Harry a steaming cup of his favorite tea and delivered it with a smacky forehead kiss.

“Babe, do you think you could help me get washed up?” Harry asked playfully adding, “I stinky.”

Louis jumped up and got the bath started, grabbed a plastic bag and popped a frozen lasagna in the oven.

He helped him up and hop-hop down the hallway.  Harry held on tightly to Louis’ body until he could  balance against the bathroom wall and remove his clothing.  He lowered himself into the bath tub, hanging his bum leg over the edge. After a few deep breaths, he drawls, “I love this tub.”

Louis places Harry’s tea on the tub’s ledge and responds in kind, “This tub loves you, too.”

They slowly slipped into their routine where Harry dunks his head under the water and Louis shampoos and conditions his hair and massages his scalp, neck and shoulders. Normally, Louis straddles him in the tub but they’re still in undefined territory. While Harry was soaking, Louis jumped in the shower to de-scuzz himself and mentally prepare for whatever is next.

After Harry was freshly scrubbed and smelling delectable, Louis wrapped his hair in a turban and gently helped him into a new bathrobe with reindeer on it which was a Christmas present that he had for Harry, but then the hols went to absolute shit. Seeing the robe reminded him that as much as he loves Harry and that they've kind of talked, they still have a lot to work out--the last month had been an emotional dumpster fire.

He was careful not to let his gaze go below Harry’s chest out of respect. He got his and Harry’s toothbrush ready and applied moisturizer to his and Harry’s face.  “Where to?” he asked Harry hesitantly.

“I’d love to lie down,” Harry said shyly. Without further response, Louis helped him get into the bedroom and into Harry’s favorite jammies and up into bed where he fluffed Harry’s pillow and tucked him in snugly. He slipped two pillows under Harry’s broken leg then gave him a big kissy on the top of his head.

Louis stood by until Harry patted the bed and lifted the blankets inviting him in. “Babe, hold me?” Harry whispers.   

Louis climbed up into the bed and scooched over and stretched his arms toward Harry, while maintaining an overtly respectful space.

“Honey, come on. I want to feel you,” Harry pleaded softly and Louis immediately closed the distance and wrapped his arms around him.

With connection reestablished, they both were dozing and snoring softly in a matter of minutes.

Woken up by the sound of the oven timer, Louis jumped up and got dinner ready while Harry slept.

After they’d eaten and had another round of tea, it was time to face the music.

Louis broached the subject carefully, “Honey, is it a good time to talk?”

Harry assented and they hashed everything out again. Louis told him about all the changes he had made and how his primary intention is to be a great partner for Harry and that he loves him more than anything in the world and he would do everything Harry asked for them to stay together.

Harry talked about his fears of being a single parent to Skye and that after seeing Louis drunk and belligerent on his birthday, it terrified him and he wondered which was the worse outcome: single parenthood or having a reckless, alcoholic husband?

Louis stiffened at the unexpected usage of the ‘H’ word and the name he suggested for Harry’s baby and his heart raced. That was another conversation they needed to have and he wondered how much Harry actually remembered from that night in the ICU when he confessed his deep desire to marry him and be Skye’s Papa.  

He reached out and held Harry’s soft shaky hand and told him that he understood and was very remorseful and vowed everything would be different.

“Do you want to get married before Skye is born or after?” Harry blurted out causing Louis to choke on his tea.

 Louis wiped his mouth and squeaked out, “What do you want?”

“I dunno. Could go either way?”

Louis put up his hands in a ‘just hold on’ motion and retrieved a stack of large envelopes and folders emblazoned with brightly-coloured university logos and set them in the middle of the table. “We need to talk about this,” and pointed to the pile, “post-doc stuff.”

Harry put his hands on his mouth and closed his eyes in shock as the next layer of reality set in. He was quiet and nodded as Louis presented some options.

Louis presented a brief overview of some of the virtues and drawbacks from each option “University of Cambridge would be closer to home but the program is not as strong as the ones overseas. It surprised me that I got an offer from UC Berkeley, which has the best adolescent program in the US and some famous professors but was very far from family, but had lovely weather. And one from Mc Gill College in Montreal, which is great but the cold weather doesn’t sound good, especially with a baby.”

“What’s that one?” Harry prodded at one folder that Louis didn’t present.

“Uhmmm,” Louis stammered as Harry snatched it, flipped it over and gasped.

“This one is a HELL NO!” Harry exclaimed as he flung the envelope off the table revealing the Christian-Albrechts University in Kiel logo, the paperwork landing in disarray on the floor.

“Baby, no. Baby, no. No no no,” Louis soothed and reached out for Harry’s shaking hands, “you know, I applied for these things last year before I even met you, ok?” Louis pleaded, “We’ll find something we both love, ok?”

Harry looked away clearly still miffed, “Ok.”

“And something that is good for the baby, too, ok?”

Upon hearing that, Harry softened.

Louis' face contorts as he leans toward Harry inspecting him. "Ummm, can we talk about what happened on New Years? Can you tell me about it because there's a lot of confusing stuff there."

"Errr, yes. That was horrible. What part do you want to know about?" Harry responds with his hands on the table reaching out for Louis who suddenly pulled away.

"Well, for one, what was up with the group you were with? I mean....it just...I don't know...and I saw you and you didn't look well or happy...and you had that sash on and I just wanted to be with you and you were with people I didn't know and it just sucked and I am confused.  Also, I saw you talking to another man and I know I shouldn't be super bothered by that stuff, but I am. Harry do you have anything to tell me?" _My heart hurts._

"Babe, that was a surprise for me, too. I reached out to a man your mum recommended who had gone through what I was going through. One thing led to another and he heard I was alone on New Years and organized a surprise baby shower for me. I didn't know anyone and it was awful."

"Ok, but what about the man you were talking to? Who is he?" Louis asks suspiciously. 

"I don't know. I think he asked me for some gum or something. Nothing happened there."

"I'm still upset about the baby shower but I will try to make peace."

“Anything else you want to talk about before we settle in?” Louis asked rubbing Harry’s hands and squeezing them.

“No….can we make a promise to each other to have better communication? That’s all I want. It kills me when you don’t text me back and, like, ignore me.”

“Yes, 100 percent,” Louis vowed.

“And your mum deserves better, too,” Harry plainly stated, “you have to be better there.”

“Yes, in the works,” Louis stated looking into Harry’s eyes conveying his sincerity and intention. “Anything else, Love?” he asked sweetly while stroking Harry’s hands.

“Ok, then, I love you. I want us to make this work. The baby is due in March, I’m 18 in February. I’m not going back to school, I’ve decided. Gonna finish it at home.” Harry declared as Louis nodded in affirmation. “And I think I want to deliver Skye here, with you, in this house.” Harry paused, “Just you, me and our mums. And in that tub.”

“Jessh, yes, yess, ohhhkay, yess, whoo, ok, uhmm, yes,” Louis stammered, eyes wide, mouth open.

“Ok, then it is settled!” Harry states and claps his hands together like he made the best deal of his life and wants to celebrate. “Let’s go make love!”

Louis takes a deep breath, “Well, yes, but you know we have to be really careful now, with your….injuries…” Louis adds judiciously.

“I promise I will be very gentle with you, Lou…” Harry teased, ‘…and your big bum.”

“Oh my god!!!!”


End file.
